Deleri
by BethCarielle
Summary: Apparently I haven't been here for about a year. UPDATE: This story is in the process of being re-written. Re-posting should begin within the next month or so. Thank you for the kind reviews and for hanging in there with me. Last Update: 07 July 2004
1. Chapter One

**Title: Delēri**

**Author: BethCarielle**

**Genre: Action/Drama/Angst- Gen**

**Rating: PG-13   Violence, swearing, character death.**

**E-Mail: bethcarielle@yahoo.com**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from _The Invisible _****_Man_.******

**Author's Note:  Thanks to my betas SuzyH, Invisible_Mom, AXZ, and Cndluhu.**

**Chapter One  **

            Claire fumbled with her keys, trying to unlock her front door.  She was tired, her feet hurt and all she wanted was a cup of tea and a hot shower.  Sighing as the deadbolt retracted, she let herself into her house.  She moved into the kitchen and set her bag on the table, tossing her coat on the back of a chair.  She kicked her shoes off as she filled the teakettle, placing it on the burner.  Opening the cabinet she selected a tea bag and set it on the counter next to her mug.

            Today had been emotionally draining.  She had been working on a gene pattern alteration that might prove to be useful in treating QSM when she received a panicked call from Bobby.  Darien was in the van, caught in the throws of Quicksilver madness.  She snapped up a pre-filled syringe of Counteragent and ran down to the parking area behind the Harding building.  When she burst through the door she found Darien crouched on the ground, prepared to launch himself at Bobby, who was carefully maintaining his distance.

            Darien's madness heightened senses picked up her movement and he changed his target, springing from the ground like a cat pouncing on prey.  Claire tried to dodge his attack but he caught her shoulder, dragging her to the ground.  She could still remember the sneer in his voice as he loomed over her, pinning her hands above her head.

            Bobby jumped into the fray, trying to pull the crazed man off of her but the strength given to Darien by the madness was too much.  Claire shouted Bobby's name, getting his attention, and motioned to the syringe that she had dropped when Darien attacked her.

            Bobby snatched it up, uncapped it and smartly stuck it into the bulging vein in Darien's neck.  Darien stiffened, his eyes rolling back in his head as the Counteragent hit his system.  His grip on her wrists loosened but Claire couldn't escape his grasp before he collapsed on top of her, trapping her under him.

            Bobby moved in quickly, rolling the semi-unconscious man off of her.  Claire had rolled the other direction, waving away Bobby's attempts at helping her up.  She was fine, save a little bruising around her wrists and possibly her hip from where she had landed when pulled to the ground.

            Darien started coming to, groaning as he sat up, head in his hands.  She asked him if he was all right and he nodded silently.  She knew he was fully aware of what he had done.  Quicksilver madness memories where usually pretty fuzzy, but he tended to remember enough to get his conscience after him with guilt.  Darien finally looked up at her, apology creasing his features.  She simply replied that she knew he was sorry and left as Bobby was helping him up.

            She had returned to The Keep and shut down her computer.  She wasn't able to concentrate any more.  She had truly been afraid of her Kept, she knew at the time he didn't know what he was doing, and they had all been powerless to stop it until Bobby had managed to inject the Counteragent.  

            She closed up The Keep and headed home, where she was now.  The phone had rung and she was finishing up a quick conversation with a colleague at a local college when the door bell rang.  Wondering who could be at her place at 8:30pm, Claire padded to the front door.  Peeping through the spy hole she saw a young man wearing dark blue jeans, and a white sweatshirt.  Making sure the chain was in place, she opened the door the four inches allowed it.

            "Yes, can I help you?"

            "Yeah, my car broke down down the street," he said indicating a grayish vehicle about 100 feet away, "Can I use your phone?"

            "I'll call for you.  Who do you want me to call?" replied Claire holding up the cordless phone she still had in her possession, not taking a chance on letting this man into her house.  

            "I'd really like to make the call myself," he pressed, stepping closer to the door.

            "It's alright, I don't mind," tried Claire again, hoping he'd give up on whatever he was trying, clicking the phone on, and pushing the automatic dial button for the 911 switchboard.

            "I said I wanted to make the call myself," he demanded, pushing on the door, straining the safety chain.  Claire pushed back at the door, trying to re-close it.  The man outside was stronger than appearances led to believe and he gave the door a powerful shove, snapping the chain and sending Claire tumbling backwards into the entry hall, and the phone flying.

            He grabbed at her, pinning her down the same way Darien had earlier that day, with her hands helplessly over her head.  She fought and kicked, trying to push him off of her but he was too strong.  With his free hand he smacked her, bloodying her lip.  He suddenly let go of her hands and started hitting her with both fists.  Delivering a blow to the left side of her face hard enough to knock her out.  

            As she was losing consciousness Claire saw him stand and felt him viciously kick her in the ribs.  Why is this happening she thought, now completely powerless to stop the assault.

She woke to the piercing shriek of the teakettle and found herself in a heap in her entryway, blood coating a good portion of her face.  She rolled to her stomach, hissing at the sharp pain coursing through her side and back.  She managed to get to her knees, ignoring the pain.  She brought a hand up to her face, fingers slick on the blood draining from her nose.

            Panic setting in again, fueled by fear triggered adrenaline, she quickly stood, slightly unsteady on her feet, and slammed the front door closed, bolting it and retreating to her bathroom.  Looking in the mirror she was shocked to see her left eye swelling shut and her face and neck bloody from her hemorrhaging nose.  Grabbing a towel she used it to soak up the continuing flow, surprised to hear sirens growing closer.  Wondering who had called the police, she startled at the crisp knock on her door.

            "Ma'am?  Ma'am?" came a voice from the other side.  Tentatively, as she was still frightened, she cracked open the door.  

            "Ma'am, everything alright?" asked the officer on the other side, who was holding up his badge.  Claire shook her head and swung the door open farther, allowing the officer and his partner, who she hadn't seen behind him, to enter.

            "Ma'am what happened?" inquired the first police officer, while his partner radioed into the dispatcher.  Claire broke down, the towel falling out of her grasp, allowing the blood to flow down her face again.  The police officer grabbed her elbow and helped her to the couch in the living room.  

            "Ambulance is on the way," called the second officer from the hall.

            "Ma'am, can you tell me what happened?" asked the first officer.

            Claire was at loss for words, she didn't know what happened.  She knew she was attacked, but she didn't know why.

            "A…a young man was at my door…he …he said his car broke down," she said softly.

            "Can you tell me what he looked like?"

            "He was…he was wearing dark jeans and a white sweatshirt…5'9", 180lbs, about 25-30 years old.  His car was small, gray," reported Claire with clinical detachment.  The officer wrote down Claire's description and radioed it in, requesting an APB.  

            The ambulance arrived and the EMT's took over the scene, replacing Claire's hand towel with gauze pads and escorting her to the back of the vehicle, settling her on the stretcher.  The police stayed at her house to document the attack and the ambulance anti-climactically took Claire to the nearest hospital.

           Once there she was escorted in by one of the EMT's since she was very capable of walking, but still very shaken up.  

            "Assault?" the nurse questioned the EMT as they entered.

            "Yeah.  You'll be alright honey," directed the EMT to Claire as she left the ER.  The nurse walked Claire to an exam room, helping her sit on the bed.  She grabbed some new gauze pads for Claire's stemming nose bleed and started a history.

            "Can I get your name sweetheart?" she asked kindly, she was a gentle motherly type woman.

            "Dr. Claire Keeply," she replied with her aching jaw.

            "Doctor?  Where do you work Ma'am?"

            "Private facility.  Government." 

            The nurse nodded and continued the history, including address, age, past medical history and current medications.  As she was finishing the doctor made an appearance.

            "Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms.," the doctor paused to look at the chart handed to him by the nurse, "oh, excuse me, Dr. Keeply.  I'm sure you know what we'll do.  Basic exam, x-rays, and blood work."

            Claire nodded and lay back on the bed with the nurse's help.  The doctor began a gentle examination of her face.  He carefully palpated her forehead, working his way down her face.  She hissed when he reached her left cheekbone.

            "Orbital x-ray and full ocular exam," he instructed the nurse, who was writing down orders.  He continued his exam, checking her nose.

            "Ruptured vessel but no break," he reported, and continued down along her jaw.  Although bruised, her jaw wasn't broken either.  Motioning to the nurse the doctor turned briefly while she helped Claire into a gown.  He returned and checked her clavicles and arms finding only bruises.  He checked her hands and Claire gasped when he reached her right.  

            "X-ray of the right hand and wrist, three of morphine for pain," he reported, moving onto examine Claire's side and back.  He palpated her ribs and abdomen, not finding anything broken or extremely swollen.

            "Four inch laceration on the inside of the left thigh, bruising on the lower abdomen.  Dr. Keeply, was it possible you were raped?" he asked gently.

            "I…I don't know.  I lost consciousness." 

            "Bring a rape kit," he instructed the nurse.

            Claire sobbed considering the possibility.  She couldn't remember.  She didn't understand.  It was too much.  The doctor finished his exam, reporting more bruises and an abrasion on her lower leg, from when she tried to kick her attacker off.  The doctor left her in the exam room and in the hands of the nurse.  

            "It'll be ok sweetheart, it'll be ok," she said, gently cleaning up Claire's face.  Claire was crying silently, and kept doing so when the doctor returned. 

            "Ok Dr. Keeply, I'm going to perform the rape exam.  Tell me if anything hurts."

            Claire nodded and held the nurse's hand.  The doctor examined Claire, taking swabs to collect any possible evidence.  

            "No signs of trauma, no lacerations, or signs of forced penetration, no semen," he reported and Claire gave a shuddering sigh of relief.  Removing her feet from the stirrups she settled back on the bed. 

            Sealing the swabs for the lab, the nurse handed them to another nurse and cleared the way for the portable x-ray that was being wheeled into the room.

            "We're going to administer the morphine, then take some films, and then I'll get you some scrubs," said the nurse, extending a professional courtesy.  

            "Thank you…" Claire paused.

            "I'm Joy.  Call me Joy."

            "Thank you Joy," murmured Claire as the morphine was injected and blood was drawn.  She then allowed herself to be positioned for the x-rays.  She lay still, thinking about what happened.  It didn't make sense, she didn't have any enemies.  Some random attack.  Why her?

            "All done miss," said the x-ray tech.

            Claire nodded, but didn't move from her spot.  Joy came back in with a set of scrubs and helped Claire sit up.  "Here honey.  Anyone I can call?" she asked placing the blue clothing on the bed next to Claire.  Claire shook her head; she didn't know who to call.  With her right hand of no use, Joy pulled the curtain and helped her change.

            With help she peeled the hospital gown off, and Joy picked up some unopened gauze and a bottle of saline from the table.  She wet the pads and wiped the blood from Claire's neck and hands.  Claire still had her bra on and she let Joy pull the scrub top over her head.  Finding her belongings bag she retrieved her underwear and pulled them back on with one hand, followed by the blue pants, the elastic waist band just snug enough to keep them on.  She was still barefoot since she hadn't been wearing any shoes at the time, but she noticed a pair of booties that Joy had brought with the scrubs.  Putting those on one handed as well, she sat on the bed.

            "Are you sure there's no one I can call?" Joy asked again.

            Claire thought about it.  Who, if anyone should she call?  Instead she stalled.

            "Do you have a hair tie?" she asked.

            "Sure honey," replied Joy, fishing one out of her pocket, and gently gathering Claire's rumpled hair back into a pony tail.

            Just then an orthopedic technician entered the room, prepared to set and splint Claire's hand.

            "You have a non-displaced fracture of the fifth metacarpal and partial fracture of the fourth metacarpal.  You also have a minor orbital fracture, for which we can't do much.  We'll prescribe some Vicodin," reported the tech.  "How's the pain?"

            "Not bad," replied Claire, the morphine had done its job.  The tech gently maneuvered her hand, slipping padding around the fracture.  "You'll only have a solid cast for ten days, then a brace," Claire nodded and watched as the plaster was applied to her wrist and hand, followed by a hard wrap.

            The tech had left and Claire was sitting on the bed, casted hand cradled in her lap.  She knew she should call someone; she couldn't just show up at work like this.  None of her close friends lived nearby and neither Bobby nor Darien would be a good choice.  Bobby would strike a personal vendetta against the guy and Darien was apt to be indecisive.  Alex.  Alex was probably her best bet.

            "Joy?" 

            "Yes honey?"

            "Can you make that call now?"

            "Of course.  Who?"

            "A co-worker…friend, of mine.  Alexandra Monroe, 555-3487.  That's her cell phone."           

            "Sure honey.  I'll be right back."

            Claire nodded and sat back on the bed, eyes closed.  What was she going to say?  What happens now?

            Joy went into the hall and dialed the number.  The phone rang three times before a snappy voice answered.

            "Monroe."

            "Alexandra Monroe?"

            "Yes?"

            "This is Joy Bauer at Memorial Hospital.  I'm calling on behalf of Dr. Claire Keeply."

            "What happened, is Fawkes alright?"

            "Who Miss?"

            "Isn't there a Darien Fawkes there?"

            "No Miss.  Dr. Keeply was attacked at her home this evening.  She gave me your number as a contact."

            "I'll be there in five," replied Alex, snapping her phone shut.  What the hell had happened?  She ran to her car and climbed in, flooring it to the hospital.

            Joy returned to the exam room harboring Claire, who was currently laying silently on the bed.  

            "You're friend Alexandra is on her way."

            "Thank you Joy."

            "No problem honey.  Everything will be alright."

            Claire nodded.

            Alex arrived as she said, in no more than five minutes.  She stormed into the ER, announcing her presence and inquiring about Claire.  Joy saw the mid height, pretty brunette and approached her.  

            "Miss Monroe?"

            "Yes?"

            "Joy Bauer, we spoke on the phone."

            Alex nodded and followed Joy back to the exam room.  "What happened?"  

            "She was attacked by an unknown assailant tonight at her home.  Police responded to a 911 call that she started, and they called in the ambulance.  She has bruises, lacerations, an orbital fracture and two fractures in her right hand.  She's had morphine, and her hand has been set, there's nothing we can really do for the orbital fracture."

            Alex was silent, listening to the description of the night's events.  Who in the world would attack Claire?  Alex followed the nurse through the doorway, gasping when she saw Claire.  Her face was swollen, a large dark blue bruise spreading across the left side.  She was still cradling her plaster encased hand in her lap.  This was unbelievable.

            "Claire?"

            "Hi Alex," she replied softly.

            "Oh my God," Alex whispered as she moved close, "what happened?"

            "I don't know."

            "We'll find who did this."

            Claire nodded, "I'm scared Alex," she whispered, her voice trembling.  Alex nodded and pulled up a chair next to the bed and leaned over, picking up Claire's left hand, giving it a squeeze.  "We'll find him."

Darien was pacing his apartment.  He felt like shit for the way he attacked Claire this afternoon.  He hated the madness; it managed to ruin his life on a regular basis.  Damn it anyways.  He could remember the fear in The Keeper's eyes; he had heard her breath catch in her throat.  She was truly afraid of him, at the time at least.

            He knew that she knew he was sorry, but it wasn't enough.  Bobby had pulled him up off the ground, and he started to voice his apology but Claire had already slipped back into the building.  Bobby had brushed it off, telling him that it wasn't his fault and that she was fine, that she understood.  Maybe she did, but it didn't make him feel any better.  

            Darien flopped down on his couch, his body limp against the cushions.  He would face her the next morning, but what about right now?  He needed to talk.  He glanced at the clock, it was only 8:30pm, Bobby would be home.  He forced himself off the couch and grabbed his keys.  

            Darien arrived at Bobby's building, and stood outside his apartment door.  He took a breath and knocked firmly on the door.  He remained where he was, staring at his feet, and the door didn't open.  Perplexed, Darien looked up, and knocked again.

            "Hey Hobbes.  It's me.  You home?"

            Silence.  Had he gone out?  Darien walked to the end of the hall and looked out the window; he could see Golda parked below.  Where was Bobby?  He went back to the door and knocked a third time.  

            "Hey Hobbes!  Bobby!  Open up!" he called again, a door down the hall opening a crack as a curious neighbor peaked out into the hall to see what was going on.  Growing concerned, Darien tried the handle.  Locked as usual, but when he bent closer he noticed only the door handle was locked, the dead bolt wasn't thrown.  That was unlike Bobby.  Pulling a pen from his pocket he made quick work of the solitary lock.  Cautiously, Darien pushed the door open, revealing a dark expanse before him.  The silence triggered his adrenaline and Darien shimmered from sight. 

            "Hobbes?  Bobby?"  He called, walking inside, flipping the light switch.  He froze at the scene before him.  Blood.  Lots of blood, even through the warbled Quicksilver vision he could tell it was blood on the floor, and the back of the couch, and leading towards the bedroom.

            "Bobby!" he called again, following the splatters into the bedroom.  He flicked on that light switch and was greeted with a site of Bobby's prone figure on the floor, his gun clenched in his hand.  

            Darien rushed to his side and dropped to the floor, Quicksilver shattering off of him.  He rolled Bobby onto his back, searching for a pulse in his neck, it was there, weak and slow.  

            "Bobby.   Bobby, speak to me man.  What happened?" he asked, running his hands over Bobby's body, finding the stab wound in his side, and feeling Bobby's back arched in the effort to draw a breath.  Must have punctured his lung he thought distractedly.  He stripped off his own shirt and pressed it against the still bleeding wound.

            Bobby's eyes fluttered in response and his mouth moved, but he couldn't speak.  

            "Hold on partner, hold on," encouraged Darien standing.  He grabbed the phone off the nightstand and returned to Bobby's side, holding the t-shirt in place.

            "911 dispatcher, what is your emergency?"

            "I need an ambulance; 234 Ashland Avenue, apartment B4 my partner's been stabbed.  I'm a federal agent, badge number 23081802."

            "On the way Mr. Fawkes," replied the dispatcher, reading the screen called forth when she entered Darien's badge number.

Darien nodded, a subconscious gesture of acceptance.  Who the hell would do this?

"Hold on buddy, they're coming," spoke Darien, trying to keep a running dialogue to keep Bobby conscious.  He waited what seemed an eternity until he heard sirens growing nearer the building.  The clatter of equipment being hauled up the stairs was indicative of the EMT's arrival.

"In here!" he yelled, and was greeted with the cacophony of sound and the sight of quickly moving individuals.  One EMT dropped to Bobby's side, making his own quick assessment and the other EMT placed a backboard next to Bobby.  Darien backed out of the way and watched as the EMTs, in one fluid, well practiced movement, transferred Bobby to the backboard and started cutting off his shirt.

They pressed a thick dressing to the puncture in Bobby's side, and aided his breathing with the ambu bag.  As the EMTs were placing Bobby on the stretcher and preparing to take him downstairs, three police officers came through the door.

"Agent Fawkes?" one called, looking up from a small notepad.  Darien looked up at the mention of his name.

"Yeah," he replied, moving towards the officers, but watching as Bobby was wheeled out of the apartment.  

"Can you tell us what happened Agent Fawkes?"

"I…I don't know.  I knocked, he didn't answer, so I came in, found this," he said, his arm panning the bloody scene before them, hearing the ambulance siren fade as Bobby was rushed to the ER.  One officer was holding a crime scene kit, which he had set on the floor and was beginning to take swabs and other implements out to gather evidence.

The first officer asked Darien a few more questions, and they both watched the second and third officers gather blood samples, take photos, and otherwise document the scene.

"Do you know if Agent Hobbes had any enemies?" asked the officer.

Besides their usual foe he couldn't think of anyone who would want to kill Bobby.  Chrysalis and Arnaud were always after himself, and what he had in his head, not his partner, Bobby just ended up in the middle of it.

            "We'll take these to the lab," reported the second officer, holding up a baggie with the individually encased swabs in it.  The first officer nodded and turned back to Darien.

            "We'll run this investigation.  I'll have some guys canvas the neighborhood, and hopefully we can get some information out of Agent Hobbes."

            Darien nodded, trying to restrain himself from yelling at the officer.  'Hopefully', there was nothing hopeful about it, Hobbes would be fine.  Knowing he was no longer needed, Darien cleared out.  He needed to get to the hospital.

"White male, about 40, single stab wound to the left side, tension pneumothorax, couldn't get a thoracotomy en route," announced the EMT as Bobby was wheeled into the ER, doctors and nurses flocking to the stretcher.

            He was pushed into a trauma room and deftly transferred to the bed, still strapped to the backboard.  Examinations began, medications were injected and a thoracotomy performed to release the pressure in his chest.  

            "Airway secured; he's intubated.  10 of morphine onboard, respiratory's on standby.  CT's waiting," reported what appeared to be a resident.  The attending nodded and declared Bobby stable to be moved to CT.

Claire had been released and Alex was walking with her out to the parking lot through the ER ambulance bay when a vehicle came flying up to the door and a new patient was unloaded and rushed inside.  Claire thought about her past when she was still in college, she had considered a transfer to emergency medicine at one time, but the research promised her by possible employers was too tempting.  

            Alex opened the passenger side door of her Corvette and helped Claire in.  She then walked around and climbed in the driver's side.  

            "You're coming home with me Claire," stated Alex firmly.  Claire wasn't going to argue, her weapon was in The Keep and she didn't want to be alone.  They stopped at Claire's first, Alex entering with her gun drawn.  

            Claire looked around the entryway desolately.  The broken chain on the door, blood spatter on the floor, she couldn't believe what happened here not more than four hours ago.  Alex went with Claire upstairs and watched as she gathered some clothing and other necessities.  

            "Thank you Alex." murmured Claire as they got back into Alex's Corvette.  

When Darien arrived at the Community Medical Center's ER, Bobby had already been sent in to surgery.  He was directed to the surgical waiting room where he had access to a phone.  He called The Official and Claire, especially Claire, since she was basically Bobby's primary doctor, as well as his own.  

            He dialed The Official's cell phone and was greeted with a rough "What?"

            "Hey Chief, umm, Bobby's in the hospital," he responded bluntly.

            "What?" barked The Official.

            "I went over to his place and found him in a pool of his own blood.  Somebody broke in, stabbed him, and left.  Nothing taken, and apparently whoever it was got the drop on him since Bobby's gun was unfired.  He's at Community, in surgery as we speak."

            The Official grunted in response, and Darien heard some shuffling, "I'll be right there," said The Official.

            Charles Borden had a few enemies, and he knew Bobby did as well, but for someone to actually get the drop on his best agent was quite unexpected.  He had a couple of phone calls to make; he needed to know whether or not this was "friendly fire".

            Climbing into his car, he punched in a set of numbers and was rewarded with a not so nice hello from a not so nice person.  "What's going on?  Why go after Hobbes?" he questioned.

            "Well, well, well, if it isn't my old friend, The Official.  I have no idea what you're talking about Charlie," responded No-Name.

            "It wasn't you?"

            "It wasn't me what?"

            "Someone got the drop on Agent Hobbes tonight, I need to know who."

            "Well I'm afraid we can't take credit.  Besides, Agent Hobbes is of no use to the SWRB."  

            "Well then," said The Official as he hit the end button, cutting off the connection.  He had kept tabs on Hobbes' activities and he knew he hadn't done anything to aggravate A.S.S., Chrysalis had been keeping to themselves, and Arnaud wasn't interested in Bobby, unless it was to leave Fawkes vulnerable.  Dialing a new set of numbers he was greeted by Eberts.

            "Yes, sir?" Eberts answered the phone.

            "Eberts, call agents Greene and Crena, tell them to get over to Community Medical Center immediately.  I want you there too, I'm on my way."

            "Yes sir.  Why sir?"

            "Agent Hobbes was attacked and is in surgery.  I think someone might be after Fawkes."

            "Right away sir," responded Eberts, hitting the dial tone button and tapping in the cell numbers of the requested agents.  Once they were informed he headed for the hospital. 

            Darien was sitting in the waiting room, trying Claire's house for the third time.  Still no answer.  He had tried her cell phone and it was turned off.  She was always reachable; she had to be for when he went nuts, Darien thought bitterly.

             Darien sighed as he replaced the handset in the cradle and sat back in the mauveish colored chair.  Why would Claire be unreachable?  Her cell phone must be off by mistake.  Darien was pondering over the evening's events when the phone next to him rang.  He jumped and looked around; no one else was in the room.  He picked it up and was greeted by a cold voice.

            "Don't try to figure it out.  Just give her back," and then a dial tone.  Darien held the phone, staring at it confused.  Give who back?  He startled when The Official came through the door, Eberts right behind him with two other agents.  

            "What's going on?" Darien asked. 

            "I don't know.  My sources aren't owning up to it.  Have you been able to get a hold of Dr. Keeply?" asked The Official.

            "No.  Have you?" replied Darien.

            The Official shook his head and gestured to Eberts, who picked up the phone next to Darien and entered a familiar set of numbers.  He waited and also received Claire's answering machine.  "Nothing sir."

            The Official grunted again and sat in one of the chairs across the room, the extra agents taking flanking positions inside the door.

            "So what's with the extra suits?" inquired Darien.

            "Just a precautionary measure.  The Official felt that the attack on Agent Hobbes might have been orchestrated to leave you vulnerable."

            "You mean leave the gland vulnerable," replied Darien bitterly.

            Eberts remained silent and The Official expressionless.  In a tense silence the group waited for news on Bobby.  Darien occasionally tried Claire's house and her cell phone, both of which proved to be fruitless.  He was just setting down the handset when it occurred to him that no one had called Monroe.  Although more often than not sent out on her own little assignments, she was part of the "team".

Alex had Claire settled in the guest bedroom of her condominium and was about to hit the shower when her phone rang.  Snatching up the receiver she was surprised to hear Fawkes' voice.  She paled and almost dropped the phone when she heard the news.  This was too weird, too coincidental, too spooky.

            "Umm, Fawkes, what time did this happen?"

            "I don't know exactly, I left to go to Hobbes' place about 8:30."

            She sighed heavily, the 911 call from Claire's had been recorded as starting at 8:32.  "Darien?"

            "Yeah?" answered Darien surprised at the usage of his first name.

            "Have you been trying to call Claire?"

            "Yeah, can't get a hold of her for the life of me…what happened?" he asked, knowing she was holding something back.

            "I don't know.  She was at home, some guy forced his way into her house, smacked her around pretty good.  Broke her cheekbone and hand, lacerations and bruises.  She's with me, too afraid to go home.  She's sleeping," Alex reported softly.

            Darien forced himself to release the breath he had been holding gaining the attention of the other occupants of the waiting room.  What was this?  Bobby, Claire and that phone call earlier.  "The Official is here, I'll tell him," replied Darien, a catch in his voice. 

            "Ok, Fawkes.  Don't worry, she'll be fine.  I'll tell her when she wakes," said Alex, her hardened shell reinstating itself.

           "Ok, sure.  Talk to you later," finished Darien still shocked.  He dropped the phone into the cradle with a loud clatter.

            He was lost in thought for a moment, staring blankly at the carpet, his mind trying to make sense of what was happening.

            "Agent Fawkes?" inquired Eberts.

            Darien looked up, seeing the question written on the faces of those before him.  "Claire's at Alex's.  She was…she was attacked too," he whispered.

            "Attacked how?" demanded The Official.

            "Some guy forced his way into her house and beat her up.  Ocular fracture, broken hand, cuts and bruises.  Didn't want to go back home so she's with Alex."

            The Official's stony demeanor not changing, he stood and gestured to Eberts.  "Call me as soon as you get news on Bobby," he said and left the room with Eberts in tow.

After the call from Darien Alex's senses went into overdrive.  Every little sound and shadow had her spooked.  Two Agency members both attacked in the same evening within a half hour of one another.  Deciding against leaving Claire unprotected she bypassed her shower and instead retrieved her second 9mm weapon and made sure it was loaded.  Sticking that one in her shoulder holster, she made sure her primary weapon was loaded and ready in her waistband holster.

            Gathering up her laptop she went down the hall, and quietly opened the door to the guest bedroom.  Claire was sleeping fitfully, casted hand held close to her body.  Slipping into the room Alex pulled up a chair near the bed and settled into it.  What ever was happening, nothing more would happen to Claire.  She promised herself that.

****

Alex woke to the sound of her phone ringing.  Cursing herself for falling asleep she jumped from the chair, looking at the bed hoping it didn't wake Claire and reaching for the extension in the guest bedroom.  She was about to pick it up when she realized the bed was empty.  Forgetting about the phone she drew her weapon and listened.  She didn't hear anything, which worried her.  idnt'ing about the phone she drew her weapon and listened.  S. hoping it didn'oom before it could wake Claire.  holster. g roomLeaving the room she made her way down the hall, when she heard a door close.  Spinning around she saw Claire coming out of the bathroom.  

Claire saw Alex in the hall, weapon drawn and froze as she spun around, training the gun on her.  Sighing with relief Alex lowered the weapon and re-holstered it. 

            "The phone rang, you weren't in the room," Alex explained as Claire came back towards the guest bedroom.

            "You were asleep; I didn't want to wake you," Claire said with a gentle smile.

            Alex nodded, "How are you feeling?"

            "Sore," replied Claire, re-entering the bedroom and sitting on the bed.  Alex took her place in the chair again and sighed.  Claire had to know.

            "Claire?"  

            "Yes?" she answered as the phone rang again.  Alex snapped up the receiver.

            "Monroe!"

            "Damn, I was starting to worry when you didn't pick up the first time."

            "Sorry Fawkes.  What's up?"

            "Bobby got out of surgery last night, things went fine.  They repaired his lung, and the soft tissue damage.  Also received a blood transfusion, he had lost quite a bit.  He's on a respirator in recovery but they think they'll be able to take him off of it by tonight.  Have you told Claire?"

            "I was just about to."

            "Ah.  Well tell her he's doing alright.  How's she doing?"

            "Looks like crap, probably feels like it," she said watching Claire listen to the one sided conversation with interest.

            Alex ended the conversation and hung up the phone.  "That was Darien.  I was about to tell you," she started, gesturing to the phone before continuing, "last night Bobby was attacked too.  Stabbed in the side, punctured his lung," she reported carefully, watching Claire pale under her bruises, causing a sharp contrast in color.  "He's alright.  He's in recovery, on a respirator still.  They think they can take him off of it tonight according to Fawkes," Alex rushed on.

            Claire remained in a shocked silence.  Both of them, in one night?  This was no longer a random attack.  It couldn't be.  What was this?  She thought that was all over.  Alex had moved from her chair to the bed, sitting next to Claire.  Claire had started shaking; the stress was getting to her.

            "Claire?  Are you alright?"

            Claire nodded slightly, her head swimming with question, disbelief, and fear.  

            "Claire?" 

            "Yes?"

            "Do you want to go to the hospital?"

            Claire looked up at Alex, meeting her eyes, she could see the worry and wanting to comfort there.

            "Sure," she said scooting towards the edge of the bed.  Impulsively Alex leaned towards her and wrapped her in a hug.  She wasn't one for tactility but Claire just needed a hug.  Claire hugged back weakly, considering the bruised ribs and casted hand.

            "I really, really want to take a shower," said Claire pulling away from Alex.

            "What about your hand?"

            "Have any plastic bags?" Claire asked with a smile.

            "Yeah," said Alex, standing and leaving the bedroom, heading towards the kitchen.  Alex was rummaging through her kitchen drawer when the phone rang.  Snatching up a white garbage bag, she answered the phone.

            "Monroe," she stated half expecting Fawkes' voice on the other end.

            "Return her and no one else gets hurt," said a cold voice.

            "What?" demanded Alex, her voice rising.  She was answered by the dial tone.

            "What the hell?" she muttered, punching in star 69.

            "The number called cannot be reached, please hang up now," replied an automated voice.

            Senses on edge she hung up the phone and hurried back up the stairs, checking her primary weapon as she did so.

            Claire was in the bathroom, hot water forming steam in the air, trying to comb out her hair.  She was muttering when Alex entered, plastic bag in hand.

            "What was that?" asked Alex, with a smile.

            "Oh, bloody hell, just complaining about my hair.  It really needs to be washed."

            "Ah.  How are you going to do this?" asked Alex holding up the bag.

            "Well, I think tying and taping are going to have to do it," replied Claire.

            Alex nodded, opening the bag and handing it to Claire.  Claire pulled it over her casted hand and had Alex draw the plastic yellow strings tight.  Alex retrieved a roll of medical tape from the bathroom cabinet and taped the edges to Claire's arm.

            "Hope that works," she said, tearing off the last length of tape.

            "It should be fine.  Thank you," said Claire.

            "Ok.  I'll be in my room," lied Alex as she left the bathroom and not moving farther than hallway.  She wasn't planning on having Claire more than a few feet away from her.  Especially if that phone call was indicative of anything.  The only her they could mean was Claire.  Who wanted her?

            Darien sat in Bobby's recovery room, watching the machine beside the bed force air into his partner's lungs.  He was triggering the ventilator on his own, and they were basically letting it do some of the work so Bobby could recover.  He was to be extubated that evening.  Bobby hadn't regained active consciousness yet, he just briefly opened his eyes once last night after being moved into the present recovery room. 

            Darien wasn't sure if he had slept or not.  He had called Alex, worried about Claire, and The Official to let him know Bobby was going to be fine.  Right now he was just waiting.  Waiting for either Bobby to wake up, or for someone to arrive, not that he expected anyone.

            Just as he was thinking that he heard a soft knock on the door.  Expecting a nurse, he looked up to see Alex standing in the door, another figure in the shadows behind her. 

            "Hey Alex," he greeted her quietly.

            "Hey Fawkes.  How's he doing?" she asked entering the room, leaving Claire in the doorway.

            "He's good.  Triggering the vent," reported Darien.  "How's Claire?"

            "She's good.  I think she's embarrassed," replied Alex softly.  

            Claire took a deep breath, wincing at the pain that coursed through her bruised ribs, and walked into the recovery room.  She couldn't very well believe that it was truly Bobby lying in that bed.

            Darien saw furtive movement in the doorway and stood up.  He moved towards Claire, who shrunk away from him.

            "Claire?  What's wrong?" he asked, appalled at the bruising on her face and the cast she gingerly held close to her body.

            "Sorry Dahrien.   I guess I'm a little spooked still.  How's he doing?"

            "He's good.  Going to be extubated this evening."

            Claire nodded and moved towards the bed, stroking Bobby's hand with her good left hand.  This wasn't right.  Why would they do this?  Why her?  Why her friend?

            As Claire settled on the hospital chair, Alex beckoned Darien into the hallway.

            "Fawkes, have you gotten any phone calls?" she asked bluntly.

            "Yeah.  Last night," replied Darien carefully.  "Why?"

            "I got one this morning, telling me to 'return her'." 

            "Yeah, the one last night saying 'give her back'.  Give who back?"

           "I think they mean Claire.  I haven't let her out of my sight, or at least hearing, since I arrived at the hospital last night.  Has The Official said anything?"

            "He was here last night when I called you.  He knows about Claire.  Said he didn't know anything about Bobby's attack.  Which he wouldn't if they were after Claire," answered Darien, putting two and two together.  "Who do you think it is?"

            "Someone from Claire's past.  That's all I can think of.  Last night, while Claire was sleeping, I ran a search on her through FBI and CIA databases, and the DOD database.  You know what's weird?  Her name didn't come up once."

            "I thought she worked for the DOD."

            "So did I," replied Alex.

            "So you're saying she lied?"

            "Either that, or she was too high security to be put in the computer."

          Darien and Alex both looked into the recovery room where Bobby lay and Claire sat.  What was The Keeper hiding?


	2. Chapter Two

**Title: Deleri**

**Author: BethCarielle**

**See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Details.**

**Chapter Two**

            Darien quietly walked up the stairs of his building, arriving at his door.  Alex had promised to stay with Claire and Bobby at the hospital while he went home to shower and change.  Just before he left Bobby had regained consciousness.  Bobby, being Bobby, was more pissed at the tube in his throat impeding his ability to talk than at the fact he had been attacked and stabbed.  Although being drugged up on morphine didn't really aid in clear thought.

            Darien inserted his key into the deadbolt and twisted it open.  Pushing open the door something told him dodge.  Ducking to the left, Darien saw his would be attacker stumble through his doorway as he missed his mark.  Using what fighting ability Bobby had instilled in him, Darien used the guy's forward momentum to get him to the floor, and pin him there.

            Darien loomed over his attacker, who was a nondescript white male with dark hair and green eyes.  He struggled against Darien's grip on his wrists and tried to kick his legs free.  

            "What do you want?" seethed Darien through clenched teeth.

            "Go to hell!" spat the attacker.

            "What do you want!?!" demanded Darien again, slamming the guy's head into the floor.  

            "And I told you to go to hell!" he hissed.

            Darien released his grip only to punch the guy squarely across the face, knocking him out.  Standing, he shook his hand, "Tell me to go to hell will you?" replied Darien disgustedly. 

            Leaning against the wall, Darien looked around the hallway, which was empty.  He decided Mr. 'You can go to hell' could stay were he was for a moment and he entered his apartment.  It looked like a proverbial tornado had gone through.  Books, clothes, cushions, bedclothes, and dishes were strewn everywhere.  This was seemingly out of context with the other attacks.  In both Bobby and Claire's cases only they were attacked, their homes had been left basically untouched.

            Groaning in response to the mess that was left for him, he picked up his phone from the corner of the room.  Trying the on button he was greeted with a green light and dial tone.  Apparently this model of phone was pretty resilient.  Kudos to the company thought Darien.

            He was about to try Alex's cell phone when he remembered that in the ICU where she was with Bobby and Claire, she couldn't have it on.  Instead he tried The Official.

            "Him!" stated a firm voice.

            "Hey Chief.  Want to tell me what's going on?"

            "Fawkes?  What are you talking about?" replied Charles Borden.

            "Well I just came home to the lovely surprise of some guy who was intent on kicking the shit out of me."

            "Damn it Fawkes!  Why did you go home alone?"

            "I'm sorry this isn't going as you planned Sir!  But my best friend is in ICU recovering from a punctured lung and Claire looks like someone took a baseball bat to her face," replied Darien forcefully.

            "Look, Fawkes, as soon as I learn anything, I'll inform you.  Where's Monroe?"

            "She's at the hospital with Claire and Bobby."

            "Ok, I want you to keep Agent Crena with you.  Understand!?"

            "Sure boss," replied Darien disgustedly as he hung up the phone.  Digging through the mess on his floor he gathered some clean clothes and a few things from the bathroom, tossing them into a duffel bag that he unearthed from the kitchen no less.

            "Now what about the mook in the hall?" he muttered to himself.  Leaving his apartment he was greeted with an empty hallway.  "God damn it!" cursed Darien.  Whoever it was must have recovered.  Keeping his guard up, he went back to his car and climbed in.  

Claire had spent a better part of her day at Bobby's side.  He drifted in and out, more from the morphine than the trauma.  Darien had returned, reporting that someone had been waiting for him at his apartment when he had gone home to change.  They were definitely targeting Agency personnel.  Darien complained about having to be baby-sat by Agent Crena, but both Claire and Alex agreed with The Official on that score.  

            Checking the time, Claire realized that she had been sitting there for almost three hours.  Checking Bobby she found him asleep.  She stood and stretched gently, ribs still sore.  Giving Bobby's hand a squeeze she left the room.  She found Darien, Alex, and Crena in the hall, camped out on the floor.

            "Everything all right?" asked Alex, jumping to her feet.

            "Everything's fine.  I just need to stretch," replied Claire.  Alex nodded, and Darien stood up as well.

            "Agent Crena, stay with Bobby.  We'll be right back," instructed Alex.  Crena nodded and took a guard position outside Bobby's door.  Darien and Alex led Claire down the hall.

            "Where're we going?" asked Claire.

            "Cafeteria.  You need to eat something.  Even if it's hospital food," replied Alex, ulterior motive directing her reply.  She and Darien had been discussing the possibilities as to who could possibly be after Claire, and they decided a little question and answer with The Keeper was in order.

            They arrived at the cafeteria and Claire picked up a bagel, pear and some orange juice; Darien and Alex both grabbed coffee.  They paid for their food and converged on a table in the back of the room.  The cafeteria itself was pretty empty this time of day.

            "How are you feeling Claire?" asked Darien.

            "Sore.  The Vicodin helps, but my face is throbbing," she replied, picking her bagel into small pieces.

            "Is there anything you need?" asked Alex.

            "No, no.  I think I'm fine right now," replied Claire, growing suspicious.  These questions seemed to be leading somewhere.  Looking from one co-worker to the other, Claire took a deep breath.  "What do you guys want?" she asked finally.

            "Why is there no record of you in the DOD database?" asked Alex bluntly.

             "Because I was working on a highly secretive, eyes only project.  They don't put that stuff in the computer," replied Claire coolly.

            "So you have no idea as to why these attacks happened?" pressed Darien gently.

            "I have no inkling of an idea Dahrien," answered Claire, taking a bite of bagel to distract herself from her lie.

            "Hmm, ok, we'll figure it out Claire," said Alex.  Claire nodded and gathered up her food, heading back towards the elevator.  Bobby was going to be extubated in an hour.

            Darien and Alex watched her for a moment, and then followed.  They were far enough behind her to be out of earshot and Alex whispered to Darien, "She's lying."  Darien nodded in agreement and the two joined Claire on the elevator.

            They made it back to Bobby's room, where they relieved Crena of his immediate duty, and went to check on their co-worker themselves.  Bobby was awake again, obviously frustrated with the intubation.  

            "Can't they take it out now?" asked Darien.

            "Probably.  Let me find his doctor," replied Claire, who left the room.  Alex gestured that she was going to go with her and also left.

            "I know you can't talk Hobbes, but how you doing partner?" 

            Bobby nodded his head a bit, giving an affirmative answer.  

            "Good, good."

            Just then Dr. Garr entered the room with Claire and Alex in tow.  "So, I'm told you're ready to be extubated," the doctor said with a little humor.  Bobby nodded again.  He hated not being able to speak. "Ok, we can do that.  Your lung function is good, and everything else is positive," replied the doctor, who gestured to the nurse who followed the three in.  "Keep in mind that you won't be able to talk immediately, your throat's going to be sore.  We'll get you some ice chips," Bobby nodded again.

            The nurse disconnected the ventilator, which wasn't even breathing for Bobby anymore, he was breathing completely on his own at this point.  She untaped the mouthpiece and cleared away the tubing.  

            "Ok, deep breath and blow on three," said the doctor.  Bobby took a deep breath as the doctor counted.  On three Dr. Garr gently pulled at the tube, sliding it from Bobby's throat.  Bobby collapsed in a coughing fit that aggravated his wound.

            "Slow and easy there Mr. Hobbes," said the doctor as Bobby's coughing subsided.  Bobby nodded, his throat was on fire.  The nurse returned with a cup of ice chips and Bobby gratefully accepted them.  Letting the melting ice soothe his throat, Bobby tried to breathe normally.  He had hated not being able to talk.

            "Fawkes," croaked Bobby wincing as he tried to talk.

            "It's going to be about on hour before you can talk fluently Mr. Hobbes," replied the doctor.  Bobby nodded and lay back, closing his eyes.

****

            Alex was sitting in the hall outside Bobby's room again.  Agent Crena was there too.  She was trying to make sense of the recent attacks.  Bobby had only been able to describe a white male, about 5'7", as his attacker.  He had been jumped in the same manner as Darien had; only he hadn't been as lucky.

            She hadn't been able to get anything more out of Claire, who was now sleeping on a cot in Bobby's room.  Something was wrong, something didn't make sense.  What could Claire be hiding?  

            Alex looked up as Darien came out of Bobby's room and dropped to the floor next to her.  He sighed and stared blankly at the wall.  She knew he was upset that Bobby couldn't identify his attacker any better.  

            "How's he doing Fawkes?" she asked.

            "He's good.  Asleep.  Both of them are asleep," he reported quietly.

            Alex nodded, the silence punctuated by the small squeak of shoes on the hallway floor.

Claire watched Darien leave under her lashes, she had been feigning sleep.  Once Darien slipped around the privacy curtain she sat up, looking at Bobby.  He was truly asleep.  He had been able to only partially describe his attacker, but it was the modus operandi she was interested in.  That was the problem with terrorists, they didn't change their MO.  

            She had thought she was safe.  That she couldn't be traced or found.  If only she had known then what she did now.  She didn't care so much about her own injuries, but the fact that they had gone after her friends and co-workers was infuriating.

            She had been young, only 25 with a double doctorate, she had started college at 15 after all, and eager to please her knew employers.  It had never occurred to her that maybe what she was doing was wrong, even illegal.  She just worked on what she was assigned.  Biological weapons weren't even a public thought at the time.

           She assumed she was mapping the genome of anthrax, Marburg, and hanta virus to aid in working towards a vaccine, or cure.  It never occurred to her that maybe what she coded and recorded would be used to make the bacteria and viruses incurable, to be used to wipe out populations.  

            Claire wiped tears from her eyes with her left hand.  She hated living with the fact that her research may have killed thousands.  She was a doctor; she was supposed to preserve life.  And the bastards she had been working for were Americans.  She had just acquired her citizenship, and was proud to be an American, and then she got wrapped up with the Stratagen Company.

            She was never going to forget the day the place was raided by FBI, DEA and even CIA agents.  The three agencies had been working together to track, expose and shut down the Stratagen company, which had been selling its super bugs to countries who were against the US for the right price.

            Everyone had been arrested, held in federal prison on charges of treason and constructing biological weapons with the intent of use.  She had never been so scared in her life.  The members of the inner circle that controlled the company were all tried, found guilty, and sentenced to death or life in prison.  Claire and the others in her position were mostly pawns, innocents used by the Stratagen Company, although it didn't make them any less guilty.  She and the other scientists were all tried, found guilty and sentenced to varying amounts of time in prison.  Claire had been looking at 50 years for being a direct member of the team that was designing the incurable viruses.  

            She had just arrived at the women's holding facility when she was told she had a visitor.  Completely stunned she was escorted to a small room where a middle-aged man was waiting.  She entered and he told her to please take a seat.  He then dismissed the guard.

            "Ellen Grace Parker," he addressed her and that was the last time her true name was spoken.

            "You have been…selected," he continued after a pause.  "As we speak your past is being erased.  Work for us or spend the next 50 years of your life here," he said, gesturing to the area around them.

            Claire had been frightened out of her mind.  Who was this?  Work for them?  Who were 'they'?  "Erased?" she murmured.

            "Yes.  Everything.  Records of your family, birth, schooling, and work at Stratagen are all being destroyed.  We want you."

            "Who are you?"

            "The good guys.  Look, we need you, but you're not safe.  Rather than place you in protective custody for the rest of your life, we're changing your past Claire."

            "Claire?"

            "Your name.  We know we didn't get the people at the very top of the Stratagen Company; they're almost as good as we are.  This is your new past," he said, handing her a file.  "It contains every reference you'll need.  But, tell people as little as you have to."

            "What's my last name?"

            "You don't have one.  Another safety measure.  There are hundreds of Claires, you'll blend in."

            "But people will want to know."

            "Yes, but you are also to receive this," he said holding up a small black wallet.  He flipped it open to show a government seal on a small card and a photo id with her new life on it.  "This will give you clearance anywhere and everywhere.  You could walk into the Oval Office with this."

            "Why me?"

            "Because you have a brilliant mind, thus the name Claire, that only comes around every so often, but don't think its trust.  You'll be watched 24 hours a day.  One slip and you'll be right back here," he finished severely.  

Claire nodded.  What was she getting herself into?  What happens now?

            "Your first assignment," he said, handing her another file.  "You are going back to school.  You're going to be a Keeper."

            "A what?"

            "Kevin Fawkes.  Genius, molecular biology and genetics.  We need you to keep tabs on him, until we can get him too."

            "Get him?"

            "Yes.  Like I said, he's a genius, not on your level, but close.  Once he finishes his work at the university, we're going to bring him into our organization.  So back to school you go.  You're enrolled in the same classes he is, they're all independent study, but you have the same supervisor. Work you're way into his life, his project.  We need to know how he ticks.  You're going to become The Keeper of his actions, thoughts, feelings, life."

            Claire didn't like a word of what the guy had said, but she was willing to go along if it got her away from the prison.  She flipped through the papers on Kevin Fawkes, he seemed fascinating.  That actually intrigued her.  Sighing she looked up at the man.

            "So you agree to work for us?"

            "Yes," she stated simply.

            "Good," he said reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a key to the cuffs she was restrained with.  He unlocked them, and picked up a small black travel bag that she hadn't seen on the floor till now.  "Change," he said placing the bag on the table before Claire, and standing to leave.  Curious, Claire unzipped the bag and found a set of clothing in her exact size.

            "How do you know what size I wear?"

            "We know everything.  We're The Agency," he stated and left the room.

            Claire stood and removed the clothing, doing as she was told on autopilot.  She changed into the clothing, folding the prison jumpsuit and leaving it on the table.  What was she supposed to do now?  Leave the room?  Wait?  Just as she was trying to decide there was a knock on the door.

            "Come in," she called.  The door was opened by a woman, probably a few years older than herself.  She gave Claire a once over and nodded.

            "There's a car waiting for you.  Don't try to contact us.  Remember, tell people as little as possible.  The lower your profile the safer you are."

            Claire nodded and followed the woman out side.  Where was she being taken?  What about her stuff at home?  Deciding against asking questions she climbed into a black sedan and was whisked away.

            Claire startled when the privacy curtain blocking the view into the hallway from Bobby's room was suddenly jerked aside.  She had been lost in the events of 14 years ago.  She saw a panicked Darien in the room, with an edgy Alex behind him.

            "What's wrong?" Claire asked.

            "Agent Greene is dead," replied Darien softly, Alex nodding behind him.

            "What happened?" asked Claire, shocked.

            "He was downstairs, watching the lobby and parking lot as he was assigned.  One shot, silenced sniper rifle, couldn't triangulate from where," reported Alex.

            Claire sat where she was, shaking her head.  Why were they doing this?  Why can't they leave The Agency alone?  She was supposed to be safe.

            "We're going to have Bobby transferred back to The Keep.  We can protect him better there, and you Claire," said Darien.  Claire nodded, it was worth a try.  She watched Bobby's doctor enter the room with some nurses and prepare Bobby for transfer.  Was his care falling to her now she wondered?  Bobby was loaded into a waiting ambulance.  Claire and Darien rode in the ambulance as well, and Alex followed point behind them in her car.

            They drove sedately towards the Harding building.  Sirens sounded behind them and the ambulance driver slowed and pulled over letting a fire truck scream past.  Claire looked out her window, seeing the orange glow of flames reflecting up from behind the buildings lining the street they were on.

            "Oh my God…" whispered Claire shocked.  The ambulance turned the corner and was greeted by the site of the Harding Building in flames; fire trucks, ambulances, and emergency personnel swarming over the area.  

            "Claire?  What's going on?" asked Darien from the rear of the vehicle where he was sitting with Bobby.  Claire remained silent, causing Darien to squeeze his way up into the cab.  He paled and gasped when the panorama was displayed for him.

            The driver stopped and Claire jumped out of the cab and Darien followed her.  Alex pulled up beside the ambulance and scrambled out of her car.

            "What the hell?" she murmured, as she stood with the others, shock painting all their faces.

            "Where's The Official?  Eberts?" asked Darien scanning the persons standing across the street.  Alex trudged up to the fire chief and flashed her badge.  After a quick exchange of words she came back.

            "The Official has been taken to the hospital to be treated for smoke inhalation," she reported.

            "And Albert?" asked Claire tentatively.

            "No word," murmured Alex as she chewed on her bottom lip.

            "Well…God…what do we do now?" asked Darien.

            "Report to Delta Eight I suppose," replied Alex.

            "Probably best," agreed Claire.

            "Huh?  Delta Eight?  Someone translate please?" said Darien confused.

            "Delta Eight, our back-up and emergency meeting place," answered Claire.

            "And I didn't know this because?"

            "Need to know," replied Alex.  Darien rolled his eyes and walked away from the women.  He climbed back into the ambulance and sat down next to Bobby, who was resting.

            "So we go to Delta Eight?" asked Bobby softly with his eyes still closed.  Darien startled, he had though Bobby was asleep.

            "Yeah partner, I guess we do.  How are you feeling?"

            "Like I was run over by a truck," replied Bobby wincing as he shifted on the gurney.  Darien chuckled and got up to see what the girls were up too.  Claire and Alex were assaulting the fire chief with a barrage of questions.  The chief seemed to be answering them as best as he could.  Claire turned suddenly and in the murky darkness Darien saw fear, hatred, and what appeared to be understanding cross her features.  She knew something.  

Claire came back to the ambulance and climbed in, joining Darien in the rear.  She smiled at Bobby who returned the gesture weakly.  This wasn't right, but it made too much sense.  It was eerily similar to what happened during her second year as Kevin's Keeper. 

            She had done as told, working her way into Kevin's life and project.  She reported her information every couple of months when the same woman who she had first encountered in the prison would appear in her apartment.  She never questioned the woman, just handed her the disks she was storing her reports and actions on.  The only thing she didn't report was her growing personal relationship with Kevin.  She assumed they knew and probably didn't mind The Keeper sleeping with the Kept as long as they got what they wanted.  

            But the relationship had grown and ponderings of marriage had entered her brain.  That was when she found out how much of her life they really controlled.  One night she and Kevin were returning from dinner to find the building where his research lab was engulfed in flames.  She and Kevin had become separated in the fray and when she arrived at home that night she was startled to find her handler in her apartment.

            "He's gone," the woman reported simply.

            "He's what?" murmured Claire, tears springing to her eyes.

            "Oh, he's safe; he's in our hands now.  You've done well.  Your next assignment," she said standing and handing Claire another nondescript file.

            So that was it?  Play Keeper for two years, fall in love, lose him and move on?  All within a few hours?  Claire took the file and watched the woman leave with tears burning down her cheeks.

            She tossed the file on the table and threw herself on her bed, crying into the pillow Kevin had used, trying to absorb his lingering scent.  She cried until she fell asleep, only to be woken by the telephone six hours later.

            "You have 24 hours to respond to your new assignment," reported a male voice followed by a dial tone.  Claire broke into tears again.  Her life was no longer her own.  In the last two years she had managed to forget at times what she was really doing, but the reality had just come crashing back down onto her.

            "Claire?" Darien's voice penetrated her memories.

            "Hm?" she responded looking up.

            "Everything alright?  You were shaking," he said concern in his eyes.

            "Fine, fine, it's just…" she trailed off, hand gesturing to the destruction.  Darien nodded and watched Alex climb into the back of the ambulance.  

            "Claire?" she asked.

            "Yes?"

             "Can you direct the driver to Delta Eight?  I'll follow point again," said Alex.

            "Of course," replied Claire moving towards the forward compartment.  She settled in the passenger seat and began explaining where they needed to go to the driver.  Darien looked back down at Bobby who had drifted off again and shook his head in disbelief, grunting at the pain that knocked at the back of his head.

            "Aw crap," he mumbled looking at his wrist, six segments were red.  He was due for a shot soon, and the lab was gone.  "Uh Claire?" he called forward.

            "Yes Dahrien?" she said, turning in her seat.  Darien held up his wrist, showing her the tattoo.  She inhaled, drawing her brows and chewing on her lower lip.  "Alex?"

            "Yeah?" replied Alex.

            "We can't leave yet.  Dahrien's going to need Counteragent.  Soon."

            "But the building is destroyed," said Alex.

            "Yes.  But the safe should be intact."

            "But the Counteragent has to be refrigerated."

            "Yes, it does," replied Claire enigmatically.

            "You have a refrigerated safe?" questioned Darien, wondering where in The Keep that had been.

            "Not all the supply closets were closets Darien." 

            "So we need to get to that safe," said Alex.

            "Yes, the sooner the better."

            "Ok.  I'll talk to the chief, get some help and find that safe," replied Alex matter of factly.

            "I'm coming with you," said Claire.       

            "Claire, I think you shouldn't," interjected Darien, indicating her cast.

            "I'm fine, Dahrien," replied Claire stubbornly.

            Darien sighed and conceded.  No use trying to change The Keeper's mind.

            "Ok then," stated Alex and she hopped out of the ambulance.

            "Be right back," said Claire, squeezing Darien's hand.  Darien nodded and settled back into his seat, watching Bobby sleep.

           Alex and Claire made their way to the fire chief, who was directing groups of firefighters to certain areas for clean up.

            "Ms. Monroe you're back, Doctor," said the chief, nodding to each in turn.  "What can I do for you?"

            "We need to search a certain part of this building.  There was important research kept here."

            "I'm afraid I can't let you in there.  Too dangerous."

            "It's a matter of life or death," argued Alex.

            "You're the Fish and Game Department.  What could possibly be so important?"

            "I'm afraid I can't tell you that."

            "Sir, please, it's very important." added Claire.

            "Sorry doctor."

            "Sir, please," said Claire again, stressing the words.

            The chief sighed and looked at the pair.  "Ok.  But Ball and Feris are going with you."

            "Thank you sir," replied Claire.  The chief radioed the firefighters and out of the destruction two figures headed towards them.

            Darien watched as Alex and Claire acquired escorts and headed off into the wet, charred mess that had been the Harding Building.  He sighed.  Claire knew something and wouldn't confess, Alex was frustrated, Bobby was recovering, and he himself was bordering on useless.  He jumped when his cell phone rang in his pocket; he had forgotten it was there.

            "Fawkes," he answered.

            "Give her back or it only gets worse," responded the voice followed by a dial tone.

            "Who are you?" Darien screamed into the phone, causing Bobby to stir.  He flipped the phone shut and put a hand on Bobby's shoulder.  "Sorry partner," he murmured.

            Claire followed Alex through the muck, the smell of burnt plastic and wood filling her mouth and nose.  She had to get to the safe first.  It not only held Counteragent but her history files, ID, and the information she had been gathering for the last two years.  Things no one at The Agency could ever know.

            "Miss?  Is this it?" asked Feris who was standing next to a narrow metal structure.

            Claire smiled.  "Yes, thank you," she replied.  She picked her way across the rubble and stood in front of the safe.  She worked the dials, entering three sets of four numbers and gripped the handle.  

            "Well?" asked Alex impatiently, the stress of all these events was getting to her.  "Sorry Claire," she added quietly.

            Claire nodded and pulled at the handle, opening the safe.  She quickly applied her attention to the chilled section withdrawing the three vials of Counteragent; from beside the chilled compartment she grabbed a syringe in its protective black casing.  She handed these to Alex.  Turning back to the safe she quickly withdrew her files, the little black wallet that had caused her so much grief, and a set of CDs that held everything she knew, discovered, or had learned about Darien and the QS-9300 Project.

            "Coming Claire?" asked Alex, who was already across the room.

            "Yes, yes," she replied, stuffing the files and wallet under her jacket.  "Just had to grab these," she said, holding up the case for Alex to see.

            Alex nodded; she wasn't going to ask about the files she saw.  Now was not the time.  They made their way out of the remains of the building and across the street to the still waiting ambulance.  Claire climbed back in the back and took a seat next to Darien.  

            "Let me see," she said holding out her left hand.  Darien placed his right hand in hers and pulled up his sleeve since Claire couldn't with her casted right hand.  She examined the tattoo, seeing the six red segments and the seventh starting to change.  "How do you feel?" she asked picking up a penlight from the ambulance supplies and checking his pupils.

            "Ok.  Headache," replied Darien.  "Why?" he asked, he had picked up on the tone in her voice.

            "This is all we have until I can make more in Delta Eight's lab.  I have to stretch it out."

            "So how close are you going to let me get to becoming a homicidal maniac?"

            "Well play it by ear as it were," replied Claire, with a sympathetic smile.  Darien sighed and nodded.  Claire moved up into the cab and once again took the passenger seat.  Alex was still on the ground at the back of the ambulance.  She caught Darien's eye and beckoned him to the door.

            "She took some other things besides the Counteragent and syringe," Alex reported.

            "What others things?"

            "Looked like some files and some disks, which she showed me.  But the files she hid under her jacket."

            Darien pursed his lips.  This was getting more and more strange.  He was about to reply to Alex's related information when a shrill alarm sounded.  Darien whipped around to face Bobby and saw an array of red lights blinking back at him.

            "Claire!" he yelled unnecessarily since she was already in the back of the ambulance checking monitors and vital signs.  Bobby coughed, spattering his lips with blood.

            "Shit!" Claire cursed as she listened to Bobby's lungs.  "He's bleeding internally."

            "What!  How?" demanded Darien.

            "Torn sutures, something that was missed.  He's only been out of surgery for not even 24 hours," she explained as she turned on the oxygen and placed the mask over Bobby's mouth and nose.  "He needs to get back into the OR." 

            "So let's get him back to the hospital." 

            "It's not safe," shouted Alex gesturing to what was left of the Harding Building.

            "She's right.  It isn't safe," agreed Claire.  "Delta Eight has medical facilities," she said as she climbed back up to the cab and started giving the driver instructions.  He started the ambulance and Alex jumped out of the back and hurriedly closed the doors, giving them a 'good to go' thump.  The driver did a U-turn, flipped on the lights and took off towards where Claire had told him to go.

            Claire moved back into the rear and began examining the surgical incision.  There was no external bleeding so whatever it was it was definitely internal.  She adjusted the oxygen, even if she should need to re-intubate him, it would only do so much good if his lung was filling with blood.

            Darien watched, feeling rather useless and fighting the demon that was starting to invade his brain.  He glanced at his wrist, noting the seventh segment was full red.  Crap, this was going to get worse before it got better.  "How far is it to this Delta Eight?"

            "We should be there in about ten minutes," murmured Claire.

            "Is he going to make it ten minutes?!" Darien almost screamed.  Claire flinched and looked up at him; he could see the contrast between paleness and her bruises.  It was not going to end this way.  "Do something," he pleaded.  

            "There is nothing I can do," she said her voice trembling.  She was going to lose a best friend to this insanity.  She pressed her lips together, fighting back tears.  No.  Bobby was going to make it and be fine she decided right then and there.  "Cell phone," she demanded holding out her good hand.

            Darien handed her his cell phone and she punched in what sounded like 12 digits.  She held the phone to her ear, all the while keeping an eye on the monitors surrounding Bobby.

            "Yes.  I have a post-op agent in distress.  Immediate OR facilities and surgical team waiting," she ordered into the phone.

           "882045083556." She rattled off automatically.  That wasn't her Agency ID number Darien realized, it was too long, but whatever number it was it got results since she nodded subconsciously in agreement with the person on the other end of the line.  She snapped the phone shut. "They're waiting for us," she said, and fiddled with a set of buttons on a monitor.

            Darien watched his partner breathe, each breath becoming more and more of a struggle.  They had better reach this Delta Eight place quick, even he could tell Bobby was in trouble.  Suddenly, the ambulance was slammed into, flinging Claire down onto Bobby and Darien into a cabinet.

            "What the hell was that?" yelled Claire to the driver.

            "Some maniac is trying to run us off the road!" the driver shouted back.

            "What?" screamed Claire in disbelief.

            The sound of scraping metal was punctuated by gun fire and the sound of a shattering window.  Alex!  Alex had been following point remembered Claire.  Claire pushed herself off of Bobby to find blood splattered across the cast on her right hand.  She quickly examined Bobby and found no blood.  Where had it come from?  She looked up to see Darien still hunched over from where the first jar had flung him.  

            "Dahrien?  Dahrien!?" she shouted over the noise.  He looked up, she could see the redness creeping into his eyes, and the blood from what appeared to be a through and through gun shot wound to his left shoulder.  She followed what would have been the trajectory of the bullet and saw that it was lodged in the mattress under Bobby, just missing his leg.

            "Apparently our Ms. Monroe is a bad aim while driving," he replied his voice calm with impending Quicksilver madness.  Claire focused on his eyes and saw the redness overtake them, the adrenaline his body released in response to the pain of the gun shot wound must have pushed him into full Quicksilver madness.

            Darien began to advance on Claire in his irrational state and was momentarily distracted by another shrieking alarm.  Claire looked at the monitor and pushed the off button, she knew Bobby's respiration rate was falling.

            "Dahrien, I need you to be calm," said Claire soothingly.

            "I'm calm," replied Darien, a dangerous edge to his voice as he crept towards Claire only to be brought to his knees with the first seizures.  

            More gunfire punctuated the cacophony followed by the sound of crunching and scraping metal and a triumphant shout from the driver.  Apparently Alex had hit her mark.

            "Claire?" Darien whispered in a small voice, sanity breaking through the silver demon.

            "Hold on Dahrien," she said, removing the syringe from its protective casing and retrieving a vial of Counteragent from the drawer she had stashed them in earlier.  She drew up the vial's contents, tapped the syringe for bubbles and scooted over to Darien.  Half crouching, trying to keep her balance in the moving vehicle, Claire slipped the needle into the vein running along the inside of his arm with her good hand, trying to steady his arm with her casted hand.  She injected the blue liquid and Darien went rigid as the Counteragent hit his system.  Claire helped Darien's now limp form into a slouch in the small space he occupied.

            She replaced the glass syringe into its case and turned back to Bobby.  She inhaled sharply seeing the numbers that indicated his falling O2 sat and respiratory rate.

            "Where are we?!" she shouted forward.

            "We're 10 miles out!" the driver called back.

            Claire moved back over to Darien, fishing his cell phone from his pocket.  Darien groaned at the touch.

            "Claire?" he whispered again, wincing as he tried to straighten up, and settled for holding his head in his hand.  "My arm?" he winced again.

            "I'm here Dahrien, I'm here," she said, rubbing his back and then turning her attention to the phone, dialing Delta Eight.

            "ETA two minutes, I want them scrubbed and prepped!  Also, second agent, simple GSW," she yelled into the phone, clapping it shut.

            She moved back to Bobby and placed the stethoscope against his left side, grimacing at the rales she heard, blood was filling his left lung, leaving very little room for air movement.

            Claire felt the ambulance slow and heard shouts from outside.  The doors were flung open and doctors and nurses grabbed Darien and the stretcher with Bobby rushing the men inside.  As requested, the surgical team was waiting and Bobby was immediately taken to the OR.  Darien was moved to a private ER bay and his shoulder examined.

            "It passed through clean, you were lucky Agent Fawkes," reported the doctor as he treated and bandaged the wound.  Darien nodded and laid back on the stretcher, he was still recovering from the Quicksilver madness attack.

            "Dr. Keeply?" 

            "Hmm, yes?" asked Claire turning to face the doctor.

            "Are you alright?" he asked indicating the bruises and cast. 

            "Yes, fine.  This happened yesterday," she said shrugging.  The doctor nodded and left the treatment bay.  Claire settled on a chair and closed her eyes.  Her life, as much as it was hers, was falling apart, and her friends where paying the price.


	3. Chapter Three

**Title: Deleri**

**Author: BethCarielle**

**See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Details.**

**Chapter Three**

            "Dana!  Dana, no!  Don't take her, please don't take her!  Dana!  No…no…Dana no…"  Claire's voice trailed off, echoing in the in bleak hallway.  She slumped to the floor, tears slipping down her cheeks.  How could they?  How could they?

            "Claire?  Claire!  Claire, wake up…wake up," Darien's voice entered her dream, along with being shaken by one shoulder.  Claire opened her eyes to meet Darien's, which were filled with concern.  "You're ok Claire, you were dreaming," he explained seeing her confused expression.

            "What time is it?" she whispered.

            "Three AM."

            "How's Bobby?"

            "Out of surgery, in recovery again.  Not even on a ventilator," reported Darien, pride touching his voice.

            Claire nodded and rolled her head, her neck was cramped from having fallen asleep in the chair she had settled into five hours earlier.  Groaning she sat up, catching Darien's gaze again.     

            "Who's Dana?" he asked gently.

            "Dana?" Claire answered sotto voce.  

            "Yeah, you started yelling for them not to take her," explained Darien again.  Claire tore her gaze away from Darien.  How could she possibly explain?  No one knew.  No one could, just like most of her life, no one could know.

            "She was…she is my…my daughter," she whispered, barely audible.

            "What?" questioned Darien incredulously.

            Claire looked up, panic setting in, what had she done?  No, no one could know.  Oh God, what had she done?  Claire stood up and left the room, making her way blindly down the hallway.      

            "Claire!  Come back!  Claire!" Darien called after her; he had seen the pure fear wash over her.  Was this was she was hiding?  Was Dana the reason behind what was happening?  And who was Dana?  Claire's daughter?  Darien shook his head, he couldn't believe it.  Claire had a daughter.

Claire was pacing the hall outside the recovery room.  Her blind retreat from Darien's questions had led her to Bobby.  She checked with the surgeon, the doctor, and the nurses and his prognosis was good.  She had been right; some sutures had failed and had allowed a blood vessel to empty into his lung, causing the distress.

            She didn't know where to go, or what to do.  She couldn't believe she had told Darien about Dana.  What kind of danger had she just put Dana in?  She knew Dana was safe as long as people didn't know about her.  Claire would never forget the day she realized she was pregnant.  

            Her handler had appeared at her door the night she had found out.  "How could you?  Do you know the danger you have put Matt in?  Yourself?  Our organization?  You little slut!" she screamed, slapping Claire across the face.  Claire stumbled backwards, completely stunned by her actions.  The woman hadn't shown one emotion in the last three years.  "You have to terminate.  Now!" she demanded.  

            Claire tried to say something in her defense but was silenced by another slap.  Anger building, she stood and caught the woman's arm as she moved to slap her a third time.  The woman's eyes widened at the show of defiance.  

            "I will not terminate my pregnancy," Claire responded forcefully, spitting each word at her handler.

            "You have to.  It's too dangerous.  You're off this assignment.  We'll place you somewhere else," said the woman, speaking quickly, nodding to herself.

            "Matt has a right to know!" insisted Claire.

            "No, he doesn't, not if there's a chance we'll lose him.  Not to mention that blackmail possibilities if companies like Stratagen found out.  You do remember Stratagen don't you?" she asked threateningly.

            Claire nodded mute.  If it was that dangerous for Matt to have the emotional attachment, what did it mean for her?  Maybe she should terminate the pregnancy, make life easier.  No!  Damn it, this was one thing that was hers, something she could control.

            "So reassign me, get me away from here, from Matt," she said with a forced voice, tears blurring her vision.

            "Yes, yes we will.  Immediately.  Start packing."

            And that was the second time she lost a man she loved.  She was assigned directly to The Agency in Washington D.C., not as a Keeper, but as a scientist, working once again on genomes for the duration of her pregnancy.

            Dana was born early in the morning, a squalling, pink bundle with her father's dark hair.  Claire wept knowing Matt would never know his daughter.

            During Dana's early years Claire became the typical single, working mother, daycare, doctor visits and the occasional "Mommy and Me" activity at the local YMCA.

            She had just celebrated Dana's fifth birthday when she was told she was to be reassigned again, as a Keeper.

            "What about Dana?  I can't possibly integrate her into a Keeper position."

            "Yes, we know," her new handler had replied.  She had been assigned a new one soon after the first one had hit her.

            "What do you mean?" asked Claire as realization hit her, "No!  Never!  I will not give up my child!  You can't take her!"

            "She'll be safe, she'll be cared for.  When your contract with us is up you can get her back."

            "Contract?  I never signed a contract," seethed Claire.

            "You did by agreeing to be Kevin's Keeper 14 years ago rather than spend the next 50 in federal prison, which is still an option."

            "How long is this fucking contract?"

            "Until we decide we no longer need you."

            "So you mean I might never see Dana again?"

            "We're not that horrible, we just have an important case."

            "When?"

            "You have four weeks.  You're being assigned to our San Diego office.  The Official there is Charles Borden, who's currently operating under the front of The Fish and Game Department."

            "And where will Dana be?"

            "You won't know.  Like everything else, if you don't know, others won't know and she can't be used against you."

            "What's the assignment?"

            "Kevin's back."

            "What?"

            "Under our employment and resource, Kevin Fawkes has developed a biosynthetic gland that once implanted under the cerebral cortex, secretes a hormone known as Quicksilver, allowing the subject to become invisible.  Preliminary rodent testing is positive; however the first human trial was cut short by an unforeseen occurrence that rendered that trial ineffective."

            "Biological invisibility is only a theory."

            "It was," her handler replied, stressing the verb.

            Claire was given the pertinent records and information regarding the so termed QS-9300 project, the new test subject was as of yet, unselected. 

            Claire spent the next week trying to decide how to explain to Dana what was going to happen.  Each passing day was torture, knowing each moment she was closer to losing her daughter.

            Early one morning Claire was woken by the sound of pounding on her front door.  She opened it to be informed that an unknown terrorist entity had infiltrated the QS-9300 project and that Kevin was dead.  She was needed in San Diego immediately to deal with the new test subject, who was ironically enough, Kevin's brother, Darien Fawkes.

            "You said four weeks, I'm not ready, I haven't told Dana!" screamed Claire.

            "We didn't know who Dr. de Thiel was when he joined the project.  The Official has Darien occupied to The Agency's advantage at the time being, but Arnaud de Föhn orchestrated a toxin in the Quicksilver requiring constant observation and treatment.  You are Darien's new Keeper.  You have a day.  What ever you need from here will be shipped to your house in San Diego."  
            "I don't have a house in San Diego," replied Claire bluntly with disgust.  

            "You do now.  Report to The Agency headquarters tomorrow at 7am.  Bring Dana."

            Claire was slumped against the wall outside Bobby's room.  Tears stung her eyes as she remembered the events that led her to San Diego Agency office.  Along with becoming Darien's Keeper, her other research was moved to San Diego, including Gloria, which was convenient enough since that's where Gloria's family was.

            Now, after trying to put the past behind her and only crying herself to sleep two nights a week, her past was coming back at the expense of her friends' lives.  She picked herself up off the floor and slipped into the public restroom.  Splashing cold water on her face, she tried to smooth her hair back into place, she was a wreck.  She left the bathroom to almost literally ran into Darien.

            "Dahrien!" she exclaimed, side stepping to avoid hitting him.  He looked at her, knowing something was wrong.  All the events of the past two days, her dream about Dana, all of it was connected.

            "Claire?"

            "Yes Dahrien?"

            "Tell me."

            "I can't."

            "Why not?"

            "Because it might cost your life, my life, or Dana's."

            "How old is Dana?"

            "She'll be seven in a month and a half."

            "Where is she?"

            "I don't know."

            "What does it have to do with all this?" he asked, indicating Bobby in his room, the cast on her hand and the helplessness she must have obviously felt.

            "I'm sorry Dahrien, I can't tell you," she repeated, moving in and hugging him quickly.  She needed to go, get away from them, out of Delta Eight's facilities, where she couldn't draw anymore harm to her friends.  She'd meet her handler and ask to be reassigned.  Tears blurred her vision once more as she realized she would probably never see Bobby, Darien, or Alex again.

"Where's Claire?" asked Alex, standing at the front of Bobby's bed.  Darien looked up at the sudden break in silence.  Bobby had been conscious earlier, but was sleeping now.

            "I, uh, don't know.  She was upset earlier, probably went to track down a shower or a bed or both."

            "Upset about what?"

            "I don't know really, something about Dana."

            "Who's Dana?" asked Alex confused.  She had only just gotten out of a meeting with The Official in charge of Delta Eight.  She had given a complete report in as much detail as she knew of the events of the last two and a half days.  It was now 4am; she had been in the meeting for five hours.

            "Uhh, yeah, found out a couple of things about The Keeper.  Dana is her daughter," replied Darien, pausing to let the news sink in.

            "Her daughter?"

            "Yeah.  I have no idea what happened, although I think she's alive."

            "You think?" demanded Alex, her voice rising with the emotion of her own experience of losing a child.  She shushed herself when Bobby stirred.

            "Yeah.  Sorry Alex.  I know you know how it feels."

            Alex nodded and stared straight ahead.  Could this have a connection to Chrysalis?  Had these baby camps and kidnappings been happening for longer than they had thought?  Was Dana Chrysalis progeny too?  Like her James?  "What else did you learn?"

            "Uh, well she sort of admitted that Dana was connected to all of this."

            "Connected how?"

            "I think who ever has Dana is responsible for this."

            "So, we find out who has Dana, and we find out who almost killed Bobby."

            "Maybe.  Claire said she couldn't tell me because it would put Dana at risk, and us."

            "So what do we do?" asked Alex.

            "You're asking me?" replied Darien incredulously.

Claire found herself outside the Delta Eight Official's office.  She had never initiated a meeting with her employers, or captors she thought bitterly, her handler just always appeared.  She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

            "Enter!" commanded a rough voice.

            She turned the knob and gave the door a push.  It opened to reveal a large oak desk with an equally formidable man sitting behind it.  Did all Agency Officials have to meet some sort of weight minimum she wondered absently.  The man looked up, giving Claire a once over.

            "Yes doctor?" he questioned.

            "I, I want to be reassigned," she said quickly.

            "But the QS-9300 project still requires your attention."

            "So I'll brief someone else.  You have to have someone else."

            "There are others, who meet the required specifications, but you're familiar with the subject, he trusts you."

            "No, I don't think he does.  Please, place me somewhere else."

            "We don't need you anywhere else."

            "Send me back to DC, let me have Dana back," whispered Claire.

            "Is this what this is about?  Some belated maternal want?"

            "She's my daughter, I have a right," responded Claire forcefully.

            "She's not safe with you."

            "So assign me to her!  Send me where ever she is!"

            "We don't need you in the Chrysalis Program."

            Claire stood shocked.  Dana was with Chrysalis.

            "Fawkes?" a rough voice whispered, bringing Darien from his unconsciousness.  He groaned and stretched, he really needed to quit falling asleep in chairs, it was killing his neck and back.

            "Fawkes?  You awake?" asked the raspy, Brooklyn tinted voice again.

            Darien blinked.  "Bobby?" he whispered back.

            "Hey partner," replied Bobby with a slight smile.

            "God Bobby, you gave us a scare, was afraid I had lost you at one point."

            "What happened?"

            "Some sutures didn't hold when you were transferred.  Vessel started pouring blood into your left lung again."

            "Where are we?  Delta Eight?"

            "Yeah.  And how come you never told me about DE?" asked Darien, shortening the name of the installation to initials.

            "Need to know partner, need to know."  Even post surgery, Bobby was Bobby.  Darien grinned, grateful that his partner was still around to banter.  "Where's The Keep?  And Monroe?"

           "Uhh, Keep's resting, Alex is with her," lied Darien. Truthfully neither Alex nor himself had been able to locate Claire, or get someone to tell them her whereabouts.  They had been taking turns sitting with Bobby and searching the compound.

            "Fawkes?"

            "Yeah?"

            "Don't you freakin' lie to me," warned Bobby managing to sound slightly threatening.

            Darien grinned again; damn he was glad Bobby was going to be alright.

            Alex was roaming the halls for the third time that night.  She had tried every door to every office, closet, boardroom, and bathroom and had not found one trace of Claire.  She had tried questioning the guards at the secure passageways and was ignored.  She had concluded that Claire must be on one of those inaccessible levels, but she wasn't sure why, not to mention, what kind of clearance could The Keeper possibly have that she didn't?

            Sighing she leaned against the wall of the bleak white hall that looked like every other passage in the building; was there some sort of ban on color or artwork?  Maybe even a strip of wooden molding along the floor to break up the monotony would help.

            Alex went back over what she had learned.  Claire had vanished into the facility after telling Darien about Dana.  Dana was somewhere, supposedly safe and alive.  Bobby was recovering after his second trip into the OR and she had left Fawkes with him.  She had found out from a doctor that The Official was stable and was being kept at Memorial, under discreet guard, for the day for observation.  He was to be transferred to Delta Eight later that day.  There was no information on Eberts; Alex hoped that no news was good news.  Alex caught herself mid-yawn and looked at her watch, she had been awake for almost 24 hours.

            Pushing herself away from the wall she traced her steps back to Bobby's room, she was beginning to know this place too well.

            "Hey Monroe," Bobby greeted Alex weakly as she walked in.  Alex's eyes widened in surprise at Bobby's current state.

            "Hobbes…wow, how are you feeling?"

            "I've been better, but I'm alive," he whispered.  "Heard you shot my partner," he ribbed her.

            Alex actually blushed, nothing like shooting your own man.  "Umm, yeah.  How are you, Fawkes?"

            Darien moved his arm experimentally, thanks to the pain medication he felt pretty good.  "Not bad, Monroe.  Guess I should consider myself lucky you weren't actually aiming for me," he said smiling.  "What did you learn?"

            Alex's smile faded as she motioned towards Bobby with her eyes.

            "He knows," replied Darien, "He threatened to put another bullet in me if I didn't tell him," said Darien disgustedly with humor.

            Alex nodded.  "Well, I've been all over this place three times, no sign of Claire.  Guards won't tell me anything, Borden is being transferred here later today," she reported.

            "Eberts?" questioned Darien.

            "No word," answered Alex grimly.

            "I'm sure he's fine," croaked Bobby.

            "Yeah, Eberts is capable," agreed Darien, "Remember when the SWRB took over The Agency?"

            "Yeah, he made it then," agreed Alex, trying to convince herself.  "Are you good for a little longer, Fawkes?  I seriously need a shower and some coffee."

            "Yeah, yeah, go ahead," replied Darien, waving her towards the door.

            "Hey, guys?  I don't need a baby-sitter," piped up Bobby.

            "I don't mind, Hobbes," insisted Darien.

            "Fawkes!  Get out of here!" demanded Bobby.

            Darien sighed and shrugged, following Alex out of the room, he could use a shower too.  "Hey Alex!  Wait up!" he called, he had no idea where the agent dorms were.

"What do you mean the Chrysalis Program?" demanded Claire, thoughts of Jared Stark, Alex's son James, and the genetic tinkering they were so fond of crowded her mind.  What could they have done to her Dana?

            "Doctor!  Calm yourself," commanded the Delta Official.  "It's not the Chrysalis you've encountered while in San Diego."

            "You mean the horrible things they do are sanctioned?  By our government?"

            "No, no, you misunderstand.  Jared Stark and the people he works for are a splinter group we've been trying to control.  Your work in San Diego has been part of that effort.  

            The Chrysalis Project started as a sequestered community for children whose parent or parents could be compromised by the child's very existence.  Angelique GraBois was hired as counselor and in very much the same way Arnaud de Föhn infiltrated the QS-9300 project, Angelique worked a web of contacts throughout Chrysalis, managing to plant subversive ideas in certain minds, eventually forming a powerful group of scientists, researchers, and administrators.  They kidnapped 20 of the sequestered children, all of whom have since been returned to either their parents or Chrysalis, and began their eugenic conquest.

            When the kidnapped children had been liberated they decided to use their own gametes and a national alliance of fertility clinics to obtain 'surrogates', much in the same way Alexandra Monroe was used.

            They have been operating for the last 36 years."

            "And why haven't they been stopped?  Those children are never going to age past 30.  They could be facing severe physiological, psychological, and physical anomalies and maladaptations."

            "Yes, we know.  We have been unsuccessful in tracking them.  The efforts of the San Diego office have been as close as we've come."

            "So where's Dana?  Assign me to this Chrysalis Program," said Claire, her stomach twisting at the request to be part of Chrysalis, even though it wasn't what she had seen first hand.

            Darien was hovering outside the women's locker room, waiting for Alex to emerge.  He had managed to get fairly clean since he couldn't actually shower due to the wound through his shoulder, and was feeling edgy.  He instinctively checked his tattoo.  Only one segment was red, but he would really feel better if he knew where Claire was.  He was going to need Counteragent sooner or later.

            "Alex!" he said as she stepped through the doorway.  She jumped and turned to Darien, question on her face. 

            "What?  Everything alright?"

            "I'm going to need Counteragent soon," he admitted.

            "Let me see," said Alex holding out her hand.  Darien gingerly extended his right arm; the pain medication was wearing off.  Alex inspected the snake tattoo and sighed, "Fawkes, there's only one red segment."

            "So?"

            "So, you stay visible you won't need Counteragent for another five days."          

            "Umm, I would rather not wait that long.  Sort of a healthy paranoia."

            "You're starting to sound like Hobbes."

            "Am not."

            "Darien!" Alex said warningly.

            "Ok, sorry.  Why don't you go crash?  You look like you could sleep for a couple of days."

            "You don't look so hot yourself," she replied, the idea of sleep sounding like a sweet promise.  "What about our missing Keeper?" 

            "I have a little invisible sneak and peek planned."

            "That's why you wanted Counteragent."

            Darien favored her with a bored stare.  "Ok, ok, do what you will, just don't get caught and stay out of the girls' locker room," said Alex heading towards the dorms.

            Darien shook his head and went the opposite way, back towards Bobby's room, hoping he wouldn't get lost in the fluorescent white mausoleum.

"We can't assign you to the Chrysalis Program."

            "Why not?"

            "We need you here."

            "Don't you see what happening?  I'm getting people hurt, killed even," said Claire, thinking about Agent Greene, "Get me away from here!"  
            "No one can get in here, you know that."

            "No, I don't know that.  No one was supposed to be able to find me, remember?!"

            "And no one has."

            "No one has?!  One of my friends has had to have emergency surgery.  Twice!  I don't know if you've noticed but my hand and cheek are broken and the Harding Building is in ashes, and we were almost run off the road on the way here.  I think someone has found me!" screamed Claire, he face flushed with anger.  "I'm a danger to the QS-9300 project!  Darien could be next!  Do you understand?  Your pet project, the precious Invisible Man, could end up in the morgue and you know as well as I do that the gland is irretrievable.  That last CT scan proved that.  It's too entwined with his brain structures, removing it would damage it beyond use!" continued Claire, panting as she tried to pull oxygen into her lungs after the tirade.  "Get me out of here," she demanded icily.

            Irretrievable huh?  Why hadn't she told him that after that last claustrophobic CT scan Darien wondered as he stood outside the office door where Claire's unmistakable British accent had led him.  What did that mean to him now?  Darien shed the Quicksilver and glanced down at his wrist, watching another segment turn red.  That was six; he had been invisible for about 15 minutes, trying to locate Claire in the labyrinth.

            Claire whipped around as she heard the unmistakable tinkling sound of Quicksilver being shed.  "Dahrien?" she called out, no use pretending he didn't know where she was, most of the floor had probably heard her yelling.

            "Darien?  Darien Fawkes?" asked the DE Official confused.  Claire ignored him and opened the door to reveal a semi-sheepish looking Darien on the other side.

            "Hey Keep," he offered.

            "Dahrien," replied Claire, voice middling between annoyance and relief.

            "Mr. Fawkes?" asked the DE Official irritated.

            "Yes?"

            "How, when…how did you get here?"

            "Your cameras and motion sensors don't detect temperature, I suggest you install thermal scanners, oh, and make your door locks harder to pick, double pinned chambers at least," replied Darien nonchalantly with a nod of his head.

            The DE Official remained silent, his face showing no trace of emotion.  This little punk was giving him pointers on the security of his building?  How dare he?

            "So, uh, Claire, when are you coming back downstairs?  Alex and I were getting worried; oh and Bobby's awake, already yelling at me," Darien informed Claire, smiling. 

            "I'm not coming back, Dahrien," murmured Claire.

            "Uhh, well I'm going to need a shot soon since I spent 15 minutes tracing these freakin' hallways, trying to make sense of where I was.  Another thing, consider floorplan maps on the walls, Chief," said Darien, directing the last part to the DE Official.

            Andrew Jacobson had been The Official of Delta Eight for 22 years and he had never encountered an Agent quite like this Mr. Fawkes.  Why had he been selected again he wondered, searching his memory.  Oh, yes, Kevin Fawkes' brother, he made some sort of deal, anyways…  And he let his thoughts fade.

            "There are two vials of Counteragent left from The Keep, Dahrien, and I'll get the lab here started on a new batch before I leave."

            "Leave?" asked Darien startled.

            "Yes.  I've asked for a reassignment."

            "But you can't leave," replied Darien eyes wide in disbelief, his Keeper couldn't just leave him.

            "No she can't, and isn't," interjected Jacobson.

            "Sir, please," pleaded Claire.

            "No.  You're staying on the QS-9300 project," replied the DE Official firmly, standing from behind his desk.  Darien stood still in the tension filled room, it seemed as though one spark would set off the whole room.

            "Sir, I beg of you, please.  For Dana's sake, for mine, for Dahrien's," she finished in a whisper.

            "I'm sorry, Doctor.  We'll increase security," he started, glancing at Darien, "Official Borden is being transferred here within the hour.  Doctor, I suggest you get some sleep," finished Jacobson, ending the conversation.

            Claire remained still, lips pressed together in a thin line; she took a deep breath and spun around, letting herself out of the office.  Darien nodded at the DE Official and followed her out.

****

            "Monroe?  Alex?  Alexandra?" called a soft voice from beyond the closed door.  Alex rolled over; she was warm, comfortable, and really didn't want to get out of bed.

            "Alex?" came the voice again, accompanied by the door being opened a crack.  She rolled over again so she was facing the entryway and saw Darien poking his head into the room.

            She yawned and said, "Howlonhavinibenoot?"

            Darien chuckled and opened the door fully.  "Ten hours, Alex," he replied.

            "Mmm," said Alex acknowledged as she sat up.  She felt much better.  "Did you find Claire?"

            "Yeah."

            "Why didn't you wake me?"

            "You needed the sleep."

            "Where is…was she?"

            "Upstairs with the DE Official.  Speaking of Officials, our very own Charles Borden is resting comfortably."

            "Claire was talking to the DE Official?"

            "Yeah."

            "Why?"

            "She wanted a transfer away from the QS-9300 project," reported Darien sullenly as his smile faded.  He still couldn't believe that his Keeper wanted to abandon him.  Darien shook his head, chastising himself, Claire didn't want to abandon him, she wanted to protect him, by removing herself.

            "A transfer?  To where and why?"

            "She wouldn't speak to me at all after we left the DE Official's office.  She's locked herself in a dorm room down the hall.  I heard her crying off and on before I hit the sheets as well.  She's still quiet now, I think she finally fell asleep; she was up longer than you.  From what I overheard, she feels she's a danger to the project.  She knows who's doing this and the DE Official does too, I'm sure of it, but I still don't know who it is," replied Darien.

            "So the higher ups know what's going on while we're left in the dark, fighting for our lives,' responded Alex, more to herself than Darien, who nodded in agreement.  "How long has she been quiet?" asked Alex.  Darien glanced at his watch, which partially covered a now all green tattoo.  Claire had kept her word and got the DE lab started on a new batch of Counteragent and had given him another dose from the vials rescued from what was left of the Harding Building laboratory.  "Almost seven hours," answered Darien.

            "Let's wake her and get her to talk to us," said Alex resignedly.

            "But she hasn't even gotten seven hours of sleep," protested Darien.

            "I know," replied Alex apologetically.

            Together they quietly walked down the hall to the room that Claire had shut herself into.  Darien quickened his pace when he saw the open door.  Bursting into the room he was greeted by an almost sterile cleanliness.

            "Where is she?" questioned Alex in a whisper.

            "She's gone," murmured Darien, astonishment tinting his voice.


	4. Chapter Four

**Title: Deleri**

**Author: BethCarielle**

**See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Details**

**Chapter Four**

"What did you learn?"

            "Ellen Parker has been working for and handled by the government organization simply known as The Agency for the last 14 years.  She is now known as Claire, occasionally using the last name Keeply, a variation of her position title within The Agency, which is The Keeper.  She has a daughter, Dana, seven, her whereabouts are unknown.  Ellen's last known whereabouts were at The Agency's Delta Eight facility outside La Mesa," Redlin's assistant finished.

            Jason Redlin nodded and dismissed the underling.  So, their protégé, Ellen, had turned state's evidence.  How very interesting.  Redlin had been cultivating Stratagen's interests for the last ten years.  He had been cleaning up his predecessor, Ann Rolbin's,  records and mistakes, mistakes like the Dallas raid 14 years ago, and losing Ellen Parker to what was their largest adversary, the U.S. Government.  Even with their resources and financial power, they had yet to attract another brilliant mind like Ellen's and he was determined to get her back.

            "Fawkes?  Fawkes!" Bobby all but shouted, trying to get his partner's attention.

            "Huh?" came Darien's mumbled reply.

            "I said, 'don't worry about her, she'll be fine,'" repeated Bobby.

            Darien nodded, trying to will himself to believe those words.  It had been three days since Claire had literally disappeared, proving Darien wasn't the only one who could pull such an act.  Bobby was making impressive progress, although he was still listed in serious condition.   

            "Hobbes, we don't even know where she is," Darien reminded his partner plaintively.  

            "Fawkes, listen to me.  It's Claire," Bobby tried to explain, his voice growing weak, punctuated with small coughs as fatigue set in.

            "Hobbes, Bobby, shh, you're over doing it again," said Darien gently.  Bobby lay back on his pillows, glaring at his partner.  He felt as though his body was betraying him, he tired easily and was still confined to his bed.  "Are you ok Hobbesy?" Darien's voice penetrated Bobby's thoughts.  Bobby looked up and caught Darien's imploring gaze.

            "Yeah, fine man," mumbled Bobby.

            "You ok if I go for the night?" asked Darien glancing at his watch, it was 10pm.

            "Yeah, I'm fine, Fawkes, really."

            "Ok, hang in there partner," replied Darien, clapping Bobby gently on the shoulder as he left the room.

****

"Ms. Keeply, you can't just go walk back into Dana's life."

            "But she's my daughter," demanded Claire.

            "Yes, she is, and we've never told her differently.  She knows that she has a mother who loves her very much, but she has a dangerous job and she needs to stay here so you're both safe.

            However, it's been two years; and the developmental psychology of a second grader is fragile.  People change, Dana's changed; she's not the five year old you once knew."

            Claire chewed on her lower lip.  She had gained access to an internal computer at the DE facility and located Dana's whereabouts.  She had then left the compound with the single-minded determination to get her daughter back and move on with her life.

            "The Chrysalis Program has been operational for 40 years.  We've developed a very successful reintroduction program.  It has been known to take up to six months though; it depends on the psychology of the parent or parents and child or children," the woman continued to explain.

            Claire nodded mute.  So close yet so far.  "When can I see her?"

            "You can't.  You have not been released from your current assignment," the woman said bluntly.

            "You mean my rights as a parent mean nothing?" asked Claire, voice thick with anger.

            "Dana is here because you can't provide her with a safe environment.  Entrusting her to you would constitute child endangerment.  Until your contract is up or The Agency assigns you to a safer position, Dana remains here," finished the woman severely.

"Sir!  Sir!" Redlin's assistant came pounding down the hall.  "We've lost her sir," he panted.

             "Lost her?" 

            "Yes, Ellen Parker.  She's no longer at Delta Eight." 

            "Then where is she?"

            "We don't know.  Apparently she was moved out four days ago, surveillance didn't catch it."

            Jason Redlin paused in the center of the hall, thumb and forefinger massaging the bridge of his nose.  The incompetence of some people was completely inexcusable.

            "We know she's attached to The Agency personally.  Tell Novac to move in.  Have him take APF."

            "APF sir?"

            "Yes."

            The underling nodded and moved off down the hall to complete his assignment.  Redlin turned and continued down the hall to his office.  If APF didn't draw Ellen out, at least it would rid him of those annoying Agency nitwits.

****

            "Fawkes!  What do you mean you're going to go find her?  You don't even know where she is!" Alex shouted after the retreating form of The Invisible Man on the morning of the fifth day of Claire's absence.

            Darien listened to the words echo down the hall.  Lips pressed together in determination, he turned to face Alex.  "I have to find her!  She's the only one I trust damn it, I need her."

            "You are being incredibly selfish," Alex murmured icily.

            Darien stared at her, eyes narrowing in understanding.  "You know.  You know where she went," he accused.

            Alex stood expressionlessly as Darien approached her.  He was quickly entering her personal space and she instinctively tensed, shifting her weight for ease of attack.  Even around people she trusted she couldn't let her guard down, she had lost too many people that way.

            "I have no idea where Claire is," denied Alex.

            "You're lying!" demanded Darien.

            "I'm not," pleaded Alex weakly.

            Darien stared, unwilling to compete with the decidedly senior agent.  "Alex, where is she?" he asked quietly, the fight draining out of him.

            "She's ok.  I'm the only one here who knows where she went," admitted Alex, "And that's only because she told me herself.  And she has my car."

            "Why didn't she tell me?  I didn't even know she was leaving," said Darien.

            "There are more important things in her life, more important than you," continued Alex.  "Look, Fawkes, Claire can't keep you forever.  I don't mean to sound harsh, but you're just an assignment, and assignments change."

            "I am not just an assignment," seethed Darien.

            "See?  That's where you're wrong."

            Darien stood still, lips pursed in denial, staring at the floor.  Claire didn't just consider him an assignment, she couldn't.  Could she?  Crap.  She could, and did.  He was being selfish, but that didn't mean he didn't want her back.  

            Darien looked up and Alex saw the defeat in his eyes.  "Come on, let's go check on Bobby," she said, hoping to distract him.  Darien nodded and headed back towards the recovery room that his partner hated with a passion.

****

"Hello?"

            "Claire?"

            "Alex?"

            "Claire we need you," said Alex, fear tinting her usually steady voice.

            "Alex, no.  It's done.  I've left."

            "Claire please, we don't know what it is.  Crena, Jameson, and Willis are dead.  Others are sick.  We need you."

            "What?" shouted Claire into the phone.

            "You don't know?  You weren't told?  Oh, God…" Alex trailed off.

            "What's happened?  Dahrien, Robert, you…are you alright?"

            "The whole facility is locked down.  Fawkes and I are in the agent dorms when the lock down happened, Bobby's still in recovery.  It kills quick Claire, they can't stop it."

            Claire medical investigative instincts kicked into gear.  "When did it start?  What are the symptoms?" she queried.

            "Fever, pain, internal bleeding.  They suffocate Claire."

            "How long?"

            "About 48 hours.  They know it's a virus, they don't know how it's transmitted.  I haven't heard about any new cases.  Claire please, the docs here are clueless."

            Claire tossed the possibilities over in her head.  What could have gotten to the DE personnel?  Something didn't feel right.  She had refused to return to DE without Dana, and was fighting a repetitive battle of bureaucracy in the attempt to get her back.

            "Claire?" Alex's voice broke her thoughts.  

            "I'll call, Alex, see what's going on," she murmured.  

            "Oh…ok," replied Alex dejectedly, flinching as the gun barrel that was pressed against her skull shifted slightly.  She glanced up into the face of the man who had identified himself only as Novac.  

            Alex said a few more words to Claire and hung up the phone.

            "So when's the good doctor going to put in an appearance?" he asked, voice dripping with malice, not waiting for an answer.

            Alex glanced around the room, watching the expressions of the others in the room.  Claire hadn't said she was going to return to DE, not that it really mattered, they weren't at DE anyways.  Alex, Darien, and Bobby had been assigned to investigate a series of taunting hints about Claire left behind at the scenes of murders that had occurred over the last three weeks.  'A brilliance will soon fade,' 'Return her,' and 'Don't trust her truth.'  The phrases and statements implied there was more to this than they had originally suspected. 

            Each murder consisted of a victim who had died from what turned out to be a lethal virus that killed by rupturing the alveoli in the lungs and causing the victim to literally drown in their own blood.  About a dozen people were dead; although the singular blessing was that the virus was not airborne.  

            Things had taken a turn for the worse when the last murder they were sent to investigate turned out to be a trap.  They had arrived at the 'scene' where Darien did some invisible sneak and peek, looking for anything out of the ordinary up close.  

When the first seizures of QSM crashed through his body Alex and Bobby had been forced to call back to DE for Counteragent.  The same nurse who had been keeping Darien from insanity had arrived in record time, accompanied by agent Pierson.

After administering the Counteragent, Pierson and the nurse, Prue, prepared to leave.  That was when things went to hell.  Agents Crena and Willis were the first struck, quickly followed by Bobby and Pierson.  Alex and Jameson had been next, leaving Prue and Darien to be the last to receive a small red-feathered dart filled with sedative.

They had woken later to find themselves securely strapped to chairs in a small room, Novac taking center stage.  With a cheerful smile he began to explain what his plan was and how they fit into it, and how much he had enjoyed Darien's little attack.

The others had watched Novac first inject Agent Pierson when Claire's location was not revealed immediately.  They watched as the man deteriorated in the next 48 hours, finally succumbing to the inevitable, the wracking, bloody coughs draining the life from his body.  After that, as though it were a game, Novac systematically infected the other agents, each dying the same way.

Trading his needle for a 9mm, Novac forced Alex to contact Claire, try to draw her back to him for 'collection'.  Having little choice, Alex called.  A small sigh of relief escaped her lips as the gun was removed from its position against her skull.  Novac casually glanced over the people in the room.

"So, is everyone comfortable?" he inquired.

"Go to hell," answered Bobby.  He had recovered fully, nothing more than angry red scars left to remind him of his earlier ordeal.

"You first," replied Novac politely, retrieving a syringe.  Bobby sat stone faced, refusing to give the bastard any satisfaction of seeing his fear.  "Or perhaps nurse MacKay would like to experience this," he suggested, grabbing Prue's arm.  

"Leave her alone!" demanded Darien, watching the color drain from her face.  She was not an agent; she was a civilian who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Volunteering are we?" sneered Novac, approaching Darien.

"Claire said she'd come!" said Alex urgently, trying to take Novac's focus off his little torture game.  They had been through this three times already.  Pulse and respiratory rates soaring as Novac played a twisted game of Russian roulette with his needle.

Novac laughed, and to the relief of the room's occupants, he recapped the needle.  "Yes, yes.  She is.  She never could stay away from a good medical mystery," he replied with a smile.  "Please, relax, enjoy yourselves," said Novac as he tucked the syringe away in his jacket pocket and left the room, locking it from the outside.  

"Did Claire really say she was going to come back here?" asked Bobby.

"No.  She said she would call.  I think she knew something wasn't right.  There wasn't a whole hell of a lot I could tell her directly," replied Alex, nodding her head indicating the gun that had been pressed against it.

Bobby nodded and sighed, giving up his struggle against the bonds that kept him seated.  He hated being powerless, whether in a situation like this or two weeks ago when he couldn't trust his own body not to fail him.  Outnumbered, outgunned, and outmaneuvered, Bobby and the others were at the sadistic mercy of Novac.

****

Claire paced the small apartment she had been 'given' while her battle for custody of Dana waged.  Alex's voice on the phone was not the voice of the confident agent she knew.  Something was wrong, and it was probably a trap.  What could she do?  If the DE facility had been infiltrated, chances were they might take over the Chrysalis Program next, especially since she was here.  She needed to leave.  She would attract danger to Dana and the other children.  

Acting on impulse, Claire grabbed her purse and left the tiny apartment, flying down the stairs and across the compound.  She had arrived at the Chrysalis compound via Alex's car and it was still here.  Saying a small prayer for Dana and another for forgiveness, Claire climbed into the sports car and left.

The drive to the Chrysalis compound hadn't been long, but an eternity passed as Claire crossed endless desert, mind warring with what she would do upon her return.  What had happened at the Delta Eight facility?  Actually, she had a pretty damned good idea what had happened, she just wanted to know how Stratagen had tracked her.  And this virus, was it something she could defeat?  Something she had worked on or something else entirely new and dreadful?  

"God damn it all!" Claire cursed, pounding her fist against the steering wheel, forgetting about the almost completely knit bones in her hand.  Tears of pain sprung to her eyes, accompanied by hot tears of anger.  This was not how things were supposed to work out.  She wasn't supposed to be some high-level internal government spy.  She wasn't supposed to be forcefully kept from her daughter.  She wasn't supposed to endanger her friends with her very existence.  

The setting sun reflected off the windows of the Delta Eight compound in the distance causing an involuntary shiver to run through Claire's frame.  She was walking into the proverbial lion's den.  Killing the engine of Alex's Corvette, Claire carefully climbed out of the car, scanning her surroundings.  It was quiet, no sign of any upheaval.  Where was everyone?

Just as the thought began to fade, a familiar figure approached from the main building.  The Official had a grim look cemented on his face.  Whatever news he bore was not good.

"Dr. Keeply."

"Sir."

"You have a lot to explain."

"Me sir?  Where are Dahrien, Bobby and Alex?  I received a call."

"A call?  A call from whom?  Agents disappeared, kidnapped we believe, four days ago.  I know you know it's Stratagen."

"A call from Alex sir.  She said there was a virus being spread around the DE facility."

The Official's already stone cold expression took on an extra degree of hardness.  "Where did you receive this call?"

"At the Chrysalis Division."

He nodded and turned, heading back towards the main entrance.  "Eberts!  I want a list of all the incoming calls to Dr. Keeply's apartment while at Chrysalis," he demanded as he re-entered the building.

"Yes sir," agreed Eberts as he left, heading towards the communications center of DE.

"If we can get a phone number, we can get an address, and then we might just be able to save the others from your mistake, Dr. Keeply," said The Official coldly.

Claire remained silent hearing her own thoughts voiced by another.  This was her fault.  Those agents' deaths were on her hands, as was Bobby's attack and the attempted attack on Darien.  

"Sir!" called Eberts as he hurried back down the hall, sheet of paper in hand.  "9578 Greenfield Drive!  It's an industrial area outside Alpine," Eberts explained quickly, handing the paper towards The Official.

The Official nodded and reached for the paper just as Claire snatched it from Eberts' hand.  "Sorry," she apologized and turned to leave the building.

"Doctor!  Where are you going?" yelled The Official as Claire opened the door to the corvette.

"To fix my mistake," Claire shouted back and she pulled the door shut, and turned the ignition.  "To fix my mistake," she murmured to herself as she put the car in gear and pulled away.

"Why, Dr. Parker, how nice of you to join us," gushed Novac with false enthusiasm as he gestured to the guards to leave her in the room.  Claire had been apprehended as soon as she had neared the building at the address Eberts had uncovered.

"Mikhail Novac," replied Claire in an icy voice.  Her loathing for the man went beyond comprehension.  He had been Ann Rolbin's purveyor of illegal activities when Claire had been with Stratagen.  His loyalties, if you could call them that, lay with whoever would keep him out of jail.  He lied, he stole, he destroyed, and he killed. 

More than one undercover federal operative investigating Stratagen's suspicious goings on had found themselves facing the silenced end of a semi-automatic in the hands of Novac.  

"So glad you remember.  It's been what?  13, 14 years?  You look great," he continued.

"Go to hell you bloody bastard," answered Claire, glaring at the all too cheerful man in front of her.  "Where are my friends?" she demanded.

"Down the hall.  They've been enjoying the accommodations."

"Why them?  Why not just take me in the beginning?"

"Just a gentle reminder that we can bring you down doctor.  And we wouldn't want to leave you protected.  We break your contacts, destroy your life, kill a person here and there, remind you there's nothing we can't do.  The *Agency* was very thorough, you almost didn't exist.  Very, very, well crafted.  But we found you Ellen, or should I call you Claire?  Ann's dead, although I didn't pull that trigger.  Jason Redlin has been cleaning house, and re-establishing lost sheep.  You're coming back Ellen," explained Novac.  "The only person we can't find is your precious Dana," he said softly, letting the pin drop silence roll around them.

"You touch her, I kill you.  I will fucking kill you," seethed Claire, struggling against the cuffs enclosing her wrists behind her back.

"Now, now.  Settle yourself doctor.  You come back to us, and she'll be just fine.  Ok," he started with a renewed smile and a clap of his hands, "I'll give you the night to think it over.  I want an answer first thing in the morning.  Have a good night Dr. Parker."

Claire swallowed against the raw bile in her throat, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her anger.  Rough hands jerked her towards the door by her cuffed hands.  She was propelled down the hall and ushered into a pitch black room.  She heard Novac tell the guard to release her and heard a click and felt the disappearance of pressure from her wrists.  She was pushed into the dark room and heard the door shut behind her, the scraping of locks sliding into place echoing around her.

Not moving, Claire was deafened by the blood pounding in her ears.  Where was she now?  What waited in this room?  Was she alone?  She forced herself to be calm, and heard what sounded like a faint shuffling.  

"Hello?" she called faintly, scared she was either going to be attacked or frighten whoever was there.

"Claire?" answered an incredulous voice from the darkness.  A voice that sounded like one Bobby Hobbes.

"Bobby?" she questioned, voice shaky with relief.

"Oh, God, Claire.  Yes, it's Bobby.  Where are you?"

"By the door," answered Claire, hearing the rustle of clothing and then carefully approaching footsteps.  She mentally followed a soft scraping along the wall as Bobby moved towards her.

"Are you alright?" asked Bobby as he neared, one hand venturing out to bump into her shoulder.

"I'm fine.  You, what about you?" she asked, hands instinctively reaching for his left flank for tactile reassurance.  Bobby captured her hands, holding them in his own.

"I'm fine Claire.  Fine.  I promise," he said, drawing her further into the room, eventually to sit against a wall.

"Dahrien and Alex, where is everyone else?" she asked.

"He splits us up at night.  Guess he thinks we can't discuss escape plans or something," replied Bobby, "But the cuffs come off.  What does he want with you Claire?"

"He…he wants me to go back to Stratagen."

"Strata-what?"

"It's a bioengineering company.  It's where I first worked.  I didn't know what they were doing.  They were killing people Bobby, hundreds of people.  And I helped them!" explained Claire, voice rising in anger.

"Helped them?"

"I mapped the viruses and bacteria.  Laid it all out for them so they could make them incurable.  Whatever he has now is probably a direct result from my work," spat Claire.  

She could hear Bobby sigh, she knew he was mulling over what she had revealed to him.  It was a horrible fact of her past that she couldn't change.  She scooted away from him, putting distance between herself and her friend.  She would deal with Novac.  She would return if he promised to let her friends go and he and his guards would leave the Agency alone.  Permanently.  

****

"Rise and shine!" bellowed a malicious voice as the door was flung open.  Claire blinked against the brightness as overhead lights were thrown on.  A quick glance around the room confirmed it to be both windowless and empty.  

Three guards filed in, one training a weapon on Bobby and another on herself while the third cuffed them securely.  "Let's go join your friends," announced Novac as they were lead from the room.

Together, Claire and Bobby were herded down the hall and into a larger room that contained five chairs with convenient wrist and ankle restraints.  Alex was already in place, the anger and disgust that flashed on her face when Novac entered told Claire all she needed to know about Alex's opinion of the man.  

"Claire!" gasped Alex upon seeing her pushed into the room and unceremoniously strapped into a chair.

"Alex," replied Claire with false calm.  

"I'm sorry, Claire.  I wish I hadn't called," said Alex.

"Don't be, Alex.  It's not your fault.  This was my mistake from fourteen years ago."

Claire turned her head to see Darien led into the room, looking much worse for wear and very near QSM.  "Oh God, Dahrien.  Dahrien?  Are you alright?" asked Claire, panic in her voice as she addressed her Kept.

"Keepy?" asked Darien, the same incredulous note in his voice that Bobby had had. 

"Yes Dahrien.  It's Claire.  Are you alright?" she repeated.

"Head hurts," he replied, shaking as a small tremor shook him.  

 "Ok, today we get to hear Ellen's; would it be better if I called her Claire?  I wouldn't want to confuse, Claire's decision," drawled Novac as his guards took up positions around the room. 

"He needs Counteragent!  Let them go!" demanded Claire.

"What was that, Dr. Keeply?"

"You let everyone go and I'll go back with you."

"You would sacrifice yourself for their safety?  That's very noble of you doctor."

"Look, Mikhail.  You want to complete your assignment and return me to Stratagen.  I'll go.  Just let them go and leave them alone.  Agent Fawkes needs Counteragent.  If you don't let him go he'll die.

"And this is supposed to upset me?" asked Novac coolly.

 "I know how it works, I've seen it all.  If you kill me or get me killed, you'll find yourself looking at the same four walls for the rest of your life.  Let them go," continued Claire.

            Novac nodded absently, "I'll think about it," he said finally, turning to leave the room, giving the four guards terse instructions to not let them move.

            "He needs Counteragent!" she screamed at his retreating form.  Tearing her eyes from Novac, she looked at Darien.  "Dahrien, look at me," she commanded gently.  Darien pulled his chin from his chest and met his Keeper's gaze.  Claire inhaled sharply when she saw the almost total redness of the sclera.  

            Claire noticed Bobby's hand working to grasp something.  It was a pen.  Silently, he slipped it under the strapping captured in the buckle and began trying to pull it loose.

Bobby continued his efforts, finally to be rewarded with some slack in the wrist restraint.  Working the pen under the buckle he was able to loosen the leather strap and discreetly slip his hand free.  

Stealthily, he undid his other wrist, completely freeing his upper body.  He glanced around, watching the guards' positions.  He could undo the ankle restraints, but he was going to have to be quick.

In a flash of movement he bent double in his chair and freed both legs.  His movement attracted the guards' attention and they converged on him, weapons drawn.  Bobby straightened up, grabbing the wrist of the guard nearest him and wrested the 9mm from his grasp.  Gunshots filled the air, accompanied by strangled cries as Bobby hit his marks with deadly accuracy.  The warm coppery odor of blood filled the room as Bobby stood panting, Novac's guards lying dead in the room.

Automatically, he moved to Alex who was seated beside him.  She in turn freed Prue and Bobby moved onto Claire.  The four by silent agreement left Darien restrained.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Claire asked Bobby as he unbuckled her wrist. 

"Fawkes.  We had a lot of free time while I was in recovery," he explained gruffly.  

"What now?" asked Alex as she liberated guns from the guards, handing one to Bobby.  

"Now we blow this joint," declared Darien in an icy voice that spoke of his battle of mental wills, pulling against the restraints still in place around his wrists.

"He needs Counteragent," repeated Claire, with Prue nodding in agreement.

"Novac's probably outside the door as we speak," said Bobby, urgency thick in his voice.  "Darien?  Darien, still with us partner?" asked Bobby.

"Sure Hobbesy, right here," cooed Darien.  

"He's gone," said Alex.

"Knock him out," stated Claire simply.

"What?" questioned Bobby.

"Knock him out.  We have to get out of here, and he's too far gone to cooperate."

Bobby nodded in grim understanding.  "Sorry partner, you'll feel better later," promised Bobby as he effectively smashed the butt of his gun against the back of Darien's head, sending him into unconsciousness.  Hurriedly, Bobby and Alex unstrapped the limp form of The Invisible Man, and moved him to hunch against the wall. 

"Hate to do it, but I think we leave him here for the moment," said Bobby.  Alex nodded in agreement and cautiously, she and Bobby approached the door.  Surprisingly enough it wasn't locked from the outside.  "It's a little too quiet," whispered Bobby as he pushed the door open farther, sweeping the hall outside.  

"How many guards did he have?" asked Claire softly.

"I don't know, probably about a dozen," answered Alex.

"Minus four," added Prue with a shrug.

Bobby nodded and silently, they continued down the hall.  "I don't believe it's clear all the way out," said Alex in disbelief.  "What kind of sick game is he playing now?"

"The best kind, Ms. Monroe," echoed a voice through the hallway.  "I've considered the doctor's offer.  You can go.  She can stay.  Take your unconscious friend with you, although I do hate to miss another one of his fantastic shows," continued Novac's voice as he came into view at the end of the hall, silhouetted in the doorframe that led to freedom.

"All together now, he's not a small one," said Novac.  Slowly, not turning on this rather unstable psychopath, Bobby and Alex backed towards the room where they had left Darien.  Claire and Prue followed carefully.

As Bobby and Alex bent to retrieve Darien from the floor, an ear piercing shriek flooded the room.  Novac's eyes widened and he stepped outside, slamming the door shut.  Shouts and the sound of gunfire could just be heard through the alarm.

"I have a feeling we're not alone anymore!" Bobby shouted against the din.  Pounding footfalls could be heard as guards and Novac ran down the hall.  Orders were given and agreed to and Novac burst into the room.

"Time to go doctor," he demanded, grabbing Claire by the arm, while his guards kept their weapons trained on the group.

"No!" shouted Alex, delivering a kick to his midsection.

"Is that all, Ms. Five-Star A has?" he jeered as Alex prepared to attack again.  Drawing back to punch him, Novac caught her wrist and smartly stuck his syringe into her arm.  Time slowed and Alex was afraid to breathe as burning pain blossomed through her upper arm and shoulder.

"Oh shit," swore Bobby when he saw the needle puncture Alex's skin.  Novac tossed the empty syringe to the floor and grabbed Claire once more.  

"Say good bye," he instructed and yanked Claire from the room.  Before reactions could be garnered, Agency SWAT members flew into the room.

"Get him out of here!" commanded Alex, indicating the still unconscious Darien.  "He needs Counteragent!" she continued as they scooped him up.  

"Monroe!  Alex!  You need to get, to get…" Bobby faltered, knowing there was no known cure for the virus she had just been subjected to.

"Hobbes…Bobby, get Darien and Prue out of here.  I'm going after Claire," she replied, not letting herself think about the filth that was now coursing her veins.  

"But,"

"No!  Go!  Now!" she commanded, leaving the room and running down the hall where Novac had dragged Claire.

"God damn her," spat Bobby as he followed the SWAT members and Prue from the building.  Outside, he counted four more of Novac's guards dead, along with some of their own people.

"I want team two ready now!" he demanded, watching the appropriate people scramble into position.  "Do we know where they are?"

Alex quietly walked down the semi-lit hall.  She had been following the sounds of footsteps and struggle as Novac led Claire away.  She wasn't going quietly.  He must be headed towards another exit she thought as she tried to keep track of her location.

            The sound of a door slamming shut drew her to the left.  Weapon ready, she carefully approached the solitary door at the end of the hallway she was in.  Listening, she heard Novac's cruel laugh and Claire's harsh reply.  Taking a deep breath, Alex kicked the door open, revealing Novac with his cell phone pressed to his ear, requesting secure transportation for himself and his retrieved 'assignment', standing under a red 'Exit' sign.

            "Alex!  No!" shouted Claire when she saw her.

            "Coming back for a second dose?" inquired Novac.

            "Coming back to rid the world of you," replied Alex, her own voice replied in measured calm.

            "Really?" responded Novac with false surprise.

            "Really," answered Alex, squeezing the trigger in quick succession.  Claire watched with a mix of relief and fear as the bullets brought Novac to the floor, a crimson puddle spreading beneath him.

            In answer to her shots, bullets spun into the room from the hall.  Novac's guards were coming as reinforcement.  Alex grabbed Claire and pulled her against the wall where the guards couldn't get an angle on them.  Shots continued to strike the walls around the room, the sound of the discharging firearms deafening the two women.

"Claire!  Claire!" Alex shouted trying to get the other woman's attention and to be heard over the cacophony.  "Get out of here!" she demanded. 

            Claire looked at her incredulously, "I won't leave you!" she replied, tremor evident in her voice.

            "You don't have a choice.  You saw him inject me Claire, I have less than 48 hours, and I am not going to die that way.  Now run!  I'll cover you!"

            Claire's gaze was locked with Alex's.  She was not going to lose another friend to this madness.  "No!  You have to come with me.  I'll find a cure!" pleaded Claire.  

            "Claire, God damn it, get out of here!" screamed Alex, pushing the doctor away from her and out into the open.  The first shots rang out and Claire ran for the door with Alex's defensive shots clearing the danger from her path.  Alex saw Claire disappear through the doorway where she could find Agency personnel had been collected outside.  She was safe.  Checking her weapon she found she had three rounds left.

            "Well this was a good idea," she muttered sarcastically, listening to the shots graze the wall that was giving her cover.  "Now or never," she said to herself mirthlessly as she pulled the slide on her gun, she was going to at least inflict more pain before she died.  "Momma loves you, James," she murmured as she stepped around her protective wall and faced her last decision.

Claire burst through the doorway into a crowd of Agency SWAT personnel, her commotion had them armed and aiming at her.  

            "Stand down!  Stand down!" shouted Bobby when he saw Claire tumble through the door.  "Where's Monroe?!"

            "She wouldn't come, she's…she's still in there," panted Claire, tears streaking her face.

            "Team two, prepare for entry!" commanded Bobby as appropriate members of the SWAT snapped to attention.  Bobby was about to give the go when a rumble followed by an earth shaking blast erupted from the building.  

            "No!" screamed Claire as a Kevlar suited agent pulled her to the ground to avoid the projectiles from the explosion.  Dust and ash clouded the air, making it nearly impossible to see and even harder to breathe.  "Alex!" shouted Claire as she scrambled to push the agent off of her and move towards the wreckage.

            "Claire!  No!" shouted Bobby, grabbing her by the arm, keeping her from re-entering the ruins of the building.

            "Bobby…Bobby…no!  She's ok!  She has to be!"

            "Claire…you saw it, I saw it, and we know what would have happened.  She didn't want to die like that.  She died doing her job," Bobby said, trying to calm Claire and provide reasoning for Alex's actions.        

            "She died for me!" spat Claire bitterly.  A brave woman died for her, and she didn't deserve that sort of sacrifice.  

            "She died for all of us, Claire," said Bobby grimly.  Claire looked at her coworker, features hard and unreadable.  Saying nothing she walked away, leaving Bobby to direct the other Agency agents.


	5. Chapter Five

**Title: Deleri**

**Author: BethCarielle**

**See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Details. **

**Chapter Five**

            "And Mikhail Novac?"

            "Confirmed dead sir.  Autopsy findings were unremarkable," reported Eberts.  The Official set his papers down, bringing his hands up to rub his temples.  He had just spent the last three hours going over the recorded events of the disaster outside Alpine four days ago.

            The Agency lost eight people total, including three SWAT members in addition to Agents Monroe, Pierson, Willis, Crena, and Jameson.  Agents Hobbes and Fawkes had returned relatively unharmed, along with Nurse MacKay and Doctor Keeply.  The remaining virus found at the scene, not destroyed by the explosion, was under containment and analysis.

            "Autopsy findings on Agent Monroe?"

            "Still being analyzed sir."

            "And the explosion?"

            "Forensics found fragments of the explosive device in the sub-floor crawl space.  The way the building imploded, it looks as though Novac planted it before he entrapped the agents, with plans to detonate it after he had removed the doctor."

            "Summon The Keeper."

            "Yes sir," replied Eberts, automatically tapping in the numbers for the laboratory.

            "What?!" snapped a weary voice on the other end.

            "The Official would like you in his office for further debriefing."

            "Bloody hell," answered Claire. 

Her annoyance was obvious as she slammed the receiver into the phone cradle.  Claire faced her computer and hit save, waiting impatiently for the little hour glass to signal her research was safely encoded into the electronic device.  Once assured her findings were safe, she turned to locate a file folder with her notes and reports on last week's events and smartly raked her hand along the filing cabinet.  

            "Damn it!" she swore as pain shot through her hand.  This lab was entirely too small, but it was the best The Agency could contrive at the moment.  Picking up the folder, she threaded her way between furniture and equipment and left her inadequate facility.

            What could The Official possibly want now?  Hadn't this been dragged through the coals enough times?  Yes, nine agents died, including a core team member, and it was her fault.  What did he want her to do in retribution?  Approaching The Official's new office, she knocked sharply.

            "Enter!" commanded a gruff voice from the other side.

            Turning the knob, she let herself inside, taking in the even starker than usual décor of the office.  A desk with accompanying chair, two chairs in addition to that and dusty, off-white Venetian blinds covering a small window, patterning the floor with strips of light.

            "Dr. Keeply, please take a seat."  Claire nodded and perched herself on the edge of one of the wooden chairs, folder held delicately in front of her.  "When I first received word that the QS-9300 project was going to be based in my jurisdiction, I was thrilled to have Kevin Fawkes as the head of that project.  It, as you know, came to a less than fortuitous conclusion.  When Kevin Fawkes was reported dead, your name was the first on the list of possible Keepers for the QS-9300 project.  Your previous association with Kevin Fawkes and previous study made you perfectly qualified.  I didn't know the details of your history, but I did know you had been 'forcibly recruited'.  I didn't know what to expect, but I was pleasantly surprised.  Until now.  In light of current events, portions of your past have been released to me," said The Official.

            "But you said you knew it was Stratagen when I first returned from Chrysalis," interrupted Claire.

            "That information was uncovered by other means," answered The Official brusquely.  "I have no say over your assignment or contract, your orders come from above my superiors, but I dare say this: you nearly cost The Agency the QS-9300 project, and without the gland and the receptacle in safe working condition, you have no job with us.  Be careful where you tread Doctor."

            "Are you threatening me with Dahrien's life sir?" asked Claire coolly.

            "I'm letting you know you serve a singular purpose with us.  Control and monitoring of the QS-9300 project.  You are dismissed," finished The Official, leaving no room for argument.  

Claire stood silently and retreated from the room.  'Forcibly recruited' indeed.  She had almost been bloody kidnapped fourteen years ago.   

            Shoes clicking against the sickly green tile of the hallway floor, Claire made her way back to the lab, a small voice in the back of her head speaking of its hope that they would be relocated out of this building soon.  

Entering her lab Claire pulled up the files she had been working on before she had been called away.  She had been analyzing the virus that had killed four agents and would have killed Alex.  The virus appeared to be a hybrid between an adenovirus and an arenavirus.  From what Claire could determine an adenovirus had been genetically altered with RNA from an arenavirus that caused a common hemorrhagic fever, resulting in pneumorrhagia.  This had been specially designed and cultured.  Chances were there was no specific cure against it, although personnel that designed it probably had various vaccines in hopes that if they were to contract it, they would survive the exposure.  Clicking through windows on her screen, Claire found the photos of the gel electrophoresis she had run.  She was determined to find a way to combat this. 

"Fawkes," Bobby greeted his partner solemnly as he approached the oak tree shaded plot of earth.  

"Hobbes," nodded Darien in acknowledgement.  Other Agency personnel were standing quietly, all dressed in somber black with only hints of color here and there, Claire's blond hair contrasting sharply with her black dress suit, and the vibrant red and white roses adorning the casket.

Darien watched Claire, absorbing her stony demeanor.  He knew she felt truly guilty for Alex's death and the deaths of the other agents.  She had been burying herself in her work to find a way to cure or prevent the virus that had been responsible, performing her other duties with a mechanical propensity, barely speaking more than was necessary.  Even her quest to reunite with Dana had been muted, her bitter explanation being that she would probably just get her killed.  Novac claimed that Stratagen hadn't known Dana's whereabouts and Claire clung to that hope.  Darien brought his attention back to the proceedings when he saw The Official move to stand behind the small podium in place.  

"Alexandra Monroe was quite possibly the best agent I've ever had the pleasure of working with.  Her talents and skills served this country above and beyond the call of duty, saving innumerable lives, both domestic and foreign," began The Official.  Claire's gaze remained fixed on the small patch of grass that she had become focused on, letting the words that served as a painful reminder of Alex's needless death flow past her.  Words alone would never be enough to assuage the responsibility she felt.

Jason Redlin absently tapped his pen against the glossy top plain of his desk, lost in thoughts that seemed to lead nowhere.  How could Novac have failed?  The man had been an expert in his field.  There hadn't been one federal undercover operative he hadn't been able to find and eliminate.  He could twist information out of a subject faster than a juicer went through a dozen oranges.  How was he going to replace him?  

Pushing away his annoyance over losing Mikhail Novac, Redlin turned to more immediate problems, such as The Agency's newfound knowledge about Stratagen and his plans.  Dr. Parker now knew that she was sought, and her employers and co-workers would be careful, guarded, and warned.  There was little chance he could physically get at Ellen now.  The attacks on Dr. Parker and Robert Hobbes and the abortive attack on Darien Fawkes had been attention getters, reminders that he could and would gain control of her through any means necessary.  

Thumbing through the file on his desk, he mentally considered the locations of The Agency's former San Diego offices, the Delta Eight facility, and the residential addresses of The Agency's agents.  The information didn't do him a lot of good, there was still no way he could successfully strike.  

A small piece of paper trapped between two full sized sheets caught his eye.  Picking it up, he recognized his assistant's hurried scrawl.  Must have been something he discovered at the last moment before Redlin had asked for a report on the information found about Dr. Parker.  Carefully, he absorbed the information on the scrap of paper.  Now this could be useful.

****

Claire startled when her brow bumped against the eyepieces of her microscope.  She hadn't fallen asleep in mid-examination since college.  Shaking her head slightly, she glanced at her wristwatch, 3:24am.  Ignoring the advice of friends to go home after Alex's memorial, Claire had continued running trials of anti-virals against the virus.  Nothing was working successfully.  Groaning as she stretched, Claire turned off the power to the microscope and removed the slide.  Glaring at the film of liquid trapped under the slip cover, she dropped it into a biohazard wastebasket and stood up.

"You're not going to be doing anyone any good by staying up for all hours of the night," she chastised herself bitterly.  Shutting down her temporary lab, Claire attracted the attention of the agent assigned to protect her.  Everyone was under a light protective custody in hopes of deterring any further attacks on Agency personnel.

"Everything alright, Dr. Keeply?" inquired Agent Carreras.

"Fine, Miguel.  I'm heading home," replied Claire when the agent entered the lab.  Carreras nodded, radioed ahead for a car, and escorted Claire from the Rothe Building.

Dr. Claudia Serrano yawned as she typed in the last thoughts of her conclusion to her last autopsy from the victims of the explosion outside Alpine last week and hit save on her computer.  Normal people did not write autopsy reports at 3:30am, but these results were not what were expected in light of the reports she had on the events.  Autopsies of Agents Rita Jameson, Kenneth Willis, Ryan Crena, and Cole Pierson all showed the same findings: cyanotic tissue, evidence of hemoptysis, increased bronchial mucous accompanied by gross pneumorrhagia, presence of a virus in the degraded pulmonary tissue, and post mortem blunt force injuries from the explosion.  Alexandra Monroe posed a different story.  

The report indicated that Ms. Monroe had been exposed to the same virus as the other agents via injection, but was killed in the explosion before the effects of the virus commenced.  Dr. Serrano had found various individually fatal blunt force injuries in addition to three gun shot wounds, all of which would not have been fatal, but no trace of the virus or any other toxin in the blood samples.  The injection Ms. Monroe had sustained before her death appeared to have been nothing more than saline.  She always had liked Novac's work.

****

The Official looked up from the printed sheets in front of him, gaze transferring to the doctor standing on the other side of his desk.  "Are you certain about this?" he asked, indicating the papers.

"Positive sir," replied Dr. Serrano, "I double checked with Dr. Christopher Jones of virology, there is no virus present in any of Ms. Monroe's systems, sir."  The Official sighed and dismissed the doctor with a nod of his head.  This was most disconcerting.

"Eberts, have a copy of this report sent to The Keeper," instructed The Official.

"Right away sir," replied Eberts and he hurried from the office.

Darien sedately made his way down to the new Keep, silently cursing the reddening tattoo on his wrist and his dependency on Counteragent.  He was about to slide his key card through the reader when the sound of shattering glass and metal crashing to the floor assaulted his ears through the sliding door.  Quickly, he swiped his key and stepped into the lab.

Claire was standing in the far corner, near her supplies, some of which lay scattered on the floor and the shards of a large beaker spread out in front of her.  She was pale and shaking.  

"Claire?" questioned Darien softly.  Her head snapped up, gaze boring into Darien, face awash with anger and guilt.  "Claire, what's wrong?" tried Darien again, stepping closer to his Keeper.

"I killed Alex," murmured Claire.

"Claire…you didn't Claire.  Novac killed Alex, you know that," Darien reminded her gently.

"NO!  I killed her Dahrien!  Me!" screamed Claire, dashing another beaker to the floor in a spray of glass.

"How so?" asked Darien, changing tactics slightly.  Claire glared at him, defiance radiating off of her.

"How did I kill her?  How did I destroy another innocent life?" asked Claire in a deadly calm voice, "This is how," she answered, shoving a sheaf of papers at Darien.

Darien took the papers and scanned over them, reading the medical jargon and assessments of what appeared to be an autopsy.  "It gets really good on the second page," spat Claire caustically.  Darien raised an eyebrow and turned to the second page, which was a report of the blood work.  In bold letters the words 'no virus present' jumped out at him.  

No virus present.  Darien had been in the beginnings of QSM when The Agency's SWAT had arrived, but he had gotten the whole story from Hobbes.  Alex had been injected, Claire, Bobby, and Prue had seen Novac do it.  "There has to be some mistake Claire," offered Darien.

"No mistake.  It's been checked and rechecked.  Alex died for nothing."

"She died doing her job," countered Darien.

"She died saving me!  She would have survived; the gun shot wounds were not fatal.  If she would have just come with me she would still be alive," said Claire, slumping down against the wall amidst the glass shards.  

"Claire, you didn't know, Alex didn't know," said Darien, trying to appease the situation and finding himself unable to come up with the right words.

"She didn't have to die, Dahrien.  She wasn't sick," mumbled Claire through the tears that thickened her voice, "She would have lived."

Darien kicked the broken glass away from his Keeper and slid down the wall beside her, pulling her against his shoulder.  Claire broke down into a wracking sob, clinging to him as if she was afraid to let go.  Darien hugged her, rocking slightly when she seemed to go limp against him.  

Startled, Darien pulled away, holding her at arm's length.  Studying her face he saw the dark stains under her eyes and the parched thinness of her lips.  She was taking this hard, and working herself to exhaustion over it.  This breakdown must have been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.  Carefully, Darien maneuvered to stand and picked her up, settling her on the stretcher in the corner of the new Keep.  He covered her and pulled up a chair.  He would be here when she woke.

****

"Hey Hobbes," Darien greeted his partner as he entered his office.

"Hey Fawkes.  How's The Keep?" inquired Bobby.

"Doing ok.  She actually went home," Darien informed Bobby.  Her collapse after learning of Alex's non-infection had worried both men.  "Whatcha up to?"

"Research," was Bobby's succinct reply.

"Research?  Research on what?"

"Uh," Bobby paused as he typed in a quick succession of commands, "stuff."  Darien watched the focused look on Bobby's face shift slightly, betraying the slightest amount of panic, followed by a rapid clickity-clack of the keyboard.  Rather than try and convince Bobby to tell him what he was doing, Darien simply moved around the desk and stood to his right, eyes on the screen.  He watched as screens flashed by, catching a word here and there, one word in particular.  Chrysalis.

"You're hacking into Chrysalis?" asked Darien incredulously.  Bobby grunted in reply and quickly clacked out another set of commands.  

"And I think someone knows I'm here," muttered Bobby as he continued to move through pages and pages of alphanumerically named files.

"Looking for something in particular?" questioned Darien.

"Uh huh."

"And that would be?"

"Something Novac said," said Bobby, hopping from the undecipherable files to a bunch of names.  

"Which was?" asked Darien, growing tired of Bobby's little non-answer game.

"Ellen Parker.  That's what he called Claire."

"Ah.  Why?"

"Trying to find Dana.  Kid should be with her mother," explained Bobby absently, typing furiously, "Crap!  They've locked onto me," announced Bobby as he began backing out of the system, hoping they couldn't follow.  He suddenly stopped, watching the screen intently.

"What it is?" asked Darien, not gathering anything from the information on the screen.

            "Whoever that is, is not Chrysalis security.  They're accessing the same files I was," answered Bobby, watching with interest.  Gently, Bobby tapped in a couple of commands and brought up a second window.  The ID file on the other hacker revealed nothing.  "Wonder if Eberts could trace them?" muttered Bobby as he tried a couple of other commands to no avail.  Taking the cue, Darien ducked out of the office and hunted down his boss' assistant.  

            "Eberts?"  
            "Yes, Agent Fawkes?" replied Eberts without looking up from his console.

            "Hobbes needs to ID a signature in a server and can't get the information," explained Darien.

            "And in which server is he trying to get an ID?"

            "Chrysalis," replied Darien softly, trying to mask the word partially with a cough.

            "He's what?" sputtered Eberts, jerking away from his computer.

            "He was trying to locate Dana and thought the security had found him out, but it was actually another hacker, and they're in the same files he was.  Someone else is trying to find Dana," explained Darien in a rush.

            "Good lord," muttered Eberts as he hurried from his room and down the hall to Bobby's office.  "Robert?"

            "Eberts," answered Bobby, still clacking away intently.  "Here," offered Bobby leaving the ID window open.  Eberts nodded and took his place at the computer and began typing in a series of commands.  A tense moment passed while Eberts tried to ID the other hacker in the Chrysalis mainframe.

            "Whoever this is…has entered from an independent server…based outside of San Francisco," announced Eberts between commands.  

            "Who else would be trying to find Dana?" questioned Darien.

            "Stratagen," replied Eberts, dropping his hands from the keyboard.  "I've been doing some of my own research into The Keeper's former employer, this is their server."

            "Crap."

            "Sir?  There's someone else in the Chrysalis mainframe," called Redlin's assistant from the bank of computers.  

            "Did you get an ID?"

            "No sir, they backed out when they discovered our movement," replied the assistant.

            "Did you locate the whereabouts of Dr. Parker's daughter?"

            "Not yet sir, the Chrysalis Program mainframe is very well guarded."

            "Get the location," demanded Redlin hovering above his assistant.  Moments passed, only broken by the sound of keystrokes as the man worked to locate the subject of his boss' wishes.

****

            "Doctor!  There's a team on the way to the Chrysalis Program compound as we speak!  You will not interfere.  The assigned agents will be on guard 24 hours a day.  The children, your daughter, will be safe," The Official stated firmly.  

            "But sir, you have to let me get to her," pleaded Claire.

            "She's no safer with you and you know it."

            "But sir," Claire tried again, maternal instinct too strong to ignore, especially when fueled by a new paranoia of Stratagen's activities.

            "You are dismissed Doctor," said The Official, cutting off her further pleas just as the phone rang.

            "This is him!" barked The Official into the receiver.  The Official listened intently as his agent on the other end relayed his report.  "Complete your assignment as directed," he replied and hung up the phone, moving stiffly.

            "Doctor, we leave for the Chrysalis compound immediately," he instructed Claire.

            "What about…"

            "Now!" ordered The Official. 

"Make sure you bring some Counteragent for Agent Fawkes," he added almost as an afterthought.  

"Yes, sir," answered Claire, leaving the spartan office.  

"Sir?" asked Eberts worriedly only to be met with a stony glare.

Claire arrived with Darien and Bobby at the gates of the Chrysalis compound, greeted by armed Agency agents.  Solemnly waved through after passing identification, Claire's breath caught in her throat, tears stinging her eyes.  Bobby let out a low whistle of amazement, and Darien remained conspicuously silent.  

The vehicle stopped outside what was the main office building of the compound, disgorging its occupants.  Claire stood on unsteady legs, hands cupped over her mouth.  The Official lumbered up to the trio, lips pressed firmly together.

"It was like this when they arrived," he explained, indicating the Agency agents.  "Traces of incendiary fuels and strategically set fires have been found.  They haven't called in the forensic pathologists yet.  No immediate sighting of any remains.  I'm sorry, Doctor."

Claire turned to The Official with a steely glare.  "Sorry?  You're bloody sorry?!  This," started Claire, panning the destruction of the compound and curling wisps of black smoke with her hand, "was the last place my daughter resided, and you're sorry?  You god damned son-of-a-bitch," screamed Claire, lunging towards her supervisor.  

"Claire!" shouted Bobby, grabbing her before she could complete her attack.  She turned to him, and Bobby could see the wild hysteria in her eyes.  Pulling her close, he wrapped his arms around her.  

Claire gave up.  Her body going limp in Bobby's embrace, mind going blank in shock.  It was over.  Agency, no Agency, it didn't matter anymore.  Dana was gone, Stratagen had won.  

Darien slowly walked the perimeter of the burned ruins of the compound.  Watching the firefighters dowsing small hot spots and the M.E.'s arrive.  He knew from the look in Claire's eyes that she had quit.  This was it.  The final blow that had crushed his Keeper.

Darien found himself at the far end of the compound, Bobby and Claire a small shape in the distance.  He turned his focus back to the ruins, noting the charred shapes of children's school desks and the remains of posters and artwork scattered in the light breeze.  One large piece of paper caught his eye.  Gently, he stooped and turned it over.  A rainbow shining from fluffy clouds and a smiling sun greeted him, marred by a scrawled message across the center of the crayon drawing.

"She won't be another Alexandra Monroe," it proclaimed, with the name Dana Ashbury, printed neatly in the corner by a teacher's hand, circled in the same black marker. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Title: Deleri**

**Author: BethCarielle**

**See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Details.**

**Chapter Six**

Adrian Harper ran through the hallways, dodging fellow employees and jumping stairs.  He had no time; he had to get to Matt's lab now.  He had seen the effects of APF and he had seen the condition of the caretaker, she had hours, if that.  Crashing through a set of double doors that marked the beginning of the main research facility, Harper sprinted the last hall, finding himself in front of the key card access only sector, hermetically sealed against all possible contamination, internal or external.

            Drawing his card through the scanner, Harper listened to the hiss as the first door depressurized and allowed him access.  He stepped through and partially felt the change in atmosphere as he was sealed inside.  Moving to the video com link on the opposite wall he called into the lab, gaining Matt's attention.  The clear, though colorless, image of his long time friend wrapped from head to toe in a level four biohazard suit, coiled oxygen tube trailing behind him, appeared, question on his face.

            "Harper?"

            "Matt," panted Harper, "We gotta go.  No time.  Decontam now."

            "What?  Harper, what's going on?"

            "You alone in there?"

            "Yeah.  Harper, tell me what's going on."

            "I'm sorry Matt, Redlin sent Novac after Claire with your virus.  She's ok, Novac's dead, and others, but he nabbed Dana, Matt."

            "Christ," replied Matt, disbelief evident.

            "Yeah, I don't know where Dana is, but I saw the Chrysalis caretaker, she doesn't have long," Harper explained, only to be greeted by a blank video screen.  He heard the rushing of air exchange as Matt cycled through decontamination.  Moments later Matt appeared in the small hall between the room with the com link and the decontamination showers.  Dressed in slacks and a Polo type t-shirt Matt passed through the final door, features pale and hands clammy.

            "He has Dana?  How?"

            "He hacked into Chrysalis, found out where she was being kept."

            "Where is she now?" asked Matt as they cycled out of the last sealed door and into the hall Harper had sprinted down earlier.

            "Redlin's got her in one of the observation rooms on S3.  It works right?" asked Harper.

            Matt gave him a sidelong glance, worry obvious on his face.  "It works in test animals," the doctor explained.  

Matthew Ashbury had been single handedly responsible for the creation of the virus bearing his name.  Ashbury's Pneumorrhagic Fever, simply shortened to APF, had been Redlin's baby for two years.  A highly virulent, 100% fatal virus that killed its victims in 48 hours.  Harper still remembered when Matt had first arrived at the Stratagen complex.

Harper had watched his employer watch his latest acquisition with guarded curiosity when Matt had arrived.  Harper had been part of Stratagen for four years at that point and knew Redlin's preferred drill.  Torment the people he wanted into capitulating to his demands and then sequester them away from all they knew.  Some broke, some turned and thrived, others still seemed to remain indifferent until Redlin decided they were no longer useful, calling in Mikhail Novac to 'fix' the problem.

Matthew Ashbury, Harper had read from the printout he had been handed, was a talented virologist who ended up in Redlin's clutches when it was discovered he was the father of Ellen Parker's daughter.  Redlin's obsession for the last eight years had been finding and retrieving Ellen Parker, by any means necessary.  Redlin had located her inside The Agency, which Harper had reported to his superiors immediately, but before The Agency could act, Redlin had uncovered the rest of Ellen's secrets and 'forcibly recruited', as the term read on the printout, Matthew Ashbury.  

Harper had been assigned to be Matt's handler and used this position to his advantage by revealing himself to the doctor.  With his Agency contacts outside Stratagen, Harper was able to reassure Matt that Claire, as he knew Ellen, and Dana were safe.  In the six years Harper had known Matt, they had become close friends, a friendship tested by the success of Matt's work.

In the weeks after the virus's successful hybridization and proven lethality, Matt had sunk into a deep depression, the images of Redlin's 'test' subjects burned into his memory.  Harper had been there, and pulled him out.  Reminding him that if he created the virus, he could create an anti-viral against it.  No one else knew the genome and protein structure like he did, considering he had designed it.   

Taking Harper's words to heart, Matt had secretly developed a sialidase anti-viral.  The serum proved effective in lab animals, but human testing had not been possible.  He now hoped it would provide the same life saving properties in the Chrysalis caretaker…and his daughter.  Matt's thoughts shifted back to present when Harper roughly jerked him aside, tucking them into a small alcove, out of view.

            "Harper?" asked Matt, only to have Harper shush him.  They remained silent and hidden as a contingent of people, Redlin's henchmen, passed their position.

            Harper carefully looked around the wall hiding them and scanned the hall.  Finding it empty, he drew Matt back into the passageway.  Harper wasn't certain, but there was some chance that Redlin knew he wasn't exactly loyal to Stratagen.  Silently he led them to Matt's private lab.

            "Get what you need," Harper instructed and Matt hurried to a storage freezer in the rear of his lab.

            Quickly sorting through racks of Eppendorf tubes, boxes of cultures and other paraphernalia, Matt located the anti-viral.  He inverted the small vial a couple of times, checking it against the light, nodding in satisfaction.

            Moving from the freezer, he gathered syringes and other items, placing them in pockets.  Lastly, he placed the anti-viral in his front pants pocket where it would least likely be discovered.  He turned to Harper and nodded.   

Harper worked them through the compound, using minor hallways and a set of access tunnels that Matt hadn't known existed when he found himself standing outside another mirrored viewing window on sublevel three, an exact replica of the one he had stood on the other side of two years ago watching innocent people succumb to his virus.  He slowed subconsciously, afraid to go near the window, the bloody images flooding his mind.

            Harper felt his friend's reluctance and placed a hand on his shoulder.  "It's ok, Matt, she still has a chance."

            Matt nodded and moved closer to the window.  Inside was a young woman, caught deep in a coughing spasm that left a trickle of blood flowing from her mouth.  She was well into the second stage of APF, but not yet terminal, or so he hoped.  

            "Where are the guards?" Matt asked suddenly, realizing they were alone in the viewing room.

            "I handled them," replied Harper gruffly.  Matt didn't need to know what he had done.

            Matt nodded and moved towards the door that led into the observation room.  

            "What are you doing?" asked Harper, voice urgent and confused.

            "Going in there," replied Matt matter-of-factly.

            "You can't."

            "The virus doesn't aerosolize.  It needs a host environment," Matt explained, pulling on a pair of latex gloves that had appeared from a pocket.  

            Harper nodded slowly, not entirely convinced.  He watched Matt open the door and move towards the woman.  Even in her weakened state she took a defensive posture having been trained to defend her charges with her life if need be.  

            "What did you do with Dana?" she rasped, tracking Matt's movements warily.  

            "We're trying to find her.  I'm here to help," said Matt, slowly withdrawing a hypodermic and fishing the anti-viral from his pocket.

            "Why should I believe you?" asked the woman, backing away from him.  

            "Because Dana is my daughter," Matt whispered.  The woman remained silent, eyes speaking volumes and she tried to decide whether or not to believe him.  Matt readied a dose of the anti-viral, estimating her body weight to be somewhere between 120-135 pounds, indicating about 8ccs.  

            "Don't touch me!" the woman warned, moving to protect herself once more.  Matt took another step closer and the caretaker lunged in for an attack, the sudden movement triggering another coughing spasm.  Matt took advantage of her defenseless state and deftly injected the serum into her upper arm, foregoing sterility procedures.  The woman gasped, terror and anger painting her features.  As Matt stooped to check the woman's pulse there was a rapid pounding on the window.  He turned to the mirrored surface and then saw the door crack open, revealing Harper.  

            "Redlin's on his way.  He can't know I'm here.  You'll be ok," he said, shutting the door and leaving the viewing room.

            Matt stood paralyzed, used syringe and the vial of anti-viral in his hands.  Quickly, he slipped the vial back into his pocket and left the room, dropping the syringe in a waste basket.  He stood calmly in the viewing room, looking thoughtfully through the glass when Redlin accompanied by two others entered.

            "Doctor!  What are you doing here?"

            "I had heard that there was another APF infection.  I wanted to watch the progression.  I might have found a way to aerosolize the virus," replied Matt.  He had learned years ago to pretend to be on Redlin's agenda.

            "Aerosolize?" asked Redlin.

            "Airborne transfer, if one person becomes infected, others can become infected through the aerosolized droplets," explained Matt patiently.

            Redlin nodded a slight smile at his mouth.  That would be useful for large populations.  "Good, Doctor, good.  I'll expect a full report as soon as possible."

            "Yes sir."  Matt listened as Redlin gave instructions to his men, including that he should receive whatever he might request to further his research, and watched him leave, taking his men with him.  Still standing in the viewing room, Matt released a shaky breath and leaned against the window, trying to calm his nerves.  The door clicked open and he startled, spinning around to face whoever was entering.  Harper stood in the doorway, a pale, resolute expression on his face.

            "Harper, what is it?"

            "I found Dana."

Matt's breath caught in his throat.  He watched Harper enter the room and go to the window, focusing on the woman within.

            "Is she…"

            "No.  But she's worse than her," he said, indicating the caretaker.

            "Where is she?"

            "Down the hall, smaller observation room.  She's unconscious, but her pulse was still steady," reported Harper.  "I can get her out," added Harper quietly.  He turned to face Matt, seeing the fleeting hope cross his face.

            "Are you sure?"

            "Promise."

            Matt nodded, retrieving a syringe from his lab coat pocket.  "Take me to her," he commanded, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

            Harper nodded and led the way from the viewing room, taking Matt down a short hallway to a smaller room.

            Matt stepped through the door and to the mirrored window.  A small figure, dark hair splayed under her head like a gossamer pillow, lay on the floor's padding.  A bright red stain spread from her lips and across one cheek, ending in drops on the white floor.

            "She was probably infected at the same time as the caretaker, she's just smaller," said Matt with a clinical detachment.  He slipped the anti-viral vial from his pants pocket and inverted it twice, holding it to the light.  He frowned at the slight crystallization caused by the heat of having it in his pocket.  The solution degradation wasn't enough to damage it.

            Matt inverted the vial a few more times, re-suspending the crystals, and drew up a dose.  He opened the door to the observation room and moved to Dana's side.  She whimpered when he moved her, unfolding an arm and swabbing an area with alcohol.  Grimly, he slid the needle into her arm and depressed the plunger, watching the clear liquid disappear under the pressure.  

            "Jenny," she murmured, tossing her head as she varied between consciousness and unconsciousness.  Matt gently stroked her face, noting she was feverish.  

            "Harper," Matt called, beckoning the other man into the room. 

            Harper entered, still wary of infection, and came to Matt's side.  

            "She's febrile, no wonder she was unconscious.  When can you get her out of here?"  

            Harper glanced at his watch.  "The guards make a pass in 10 minutes.  I need to make one phone call and then I can get her out," he replied.

            Matt nodded, glancing again at his daughter, amazed by her resemblance to him.  

            "You better get back to the other observation room," instructed Harper, indicating there wasn't much time before the guards would be checking on him.  

            "Right," said Matt, trying to force himself to be calm.  He bent down to Dana and stroked her hair once more.  "I love you, sweetheart," he murmured before pushing himself away.  

            "Harper…Adrian, I don't know how to thank you, for everything," Matt said, watching his friend rise from the floor as well.

            "It'll all work out, Matt, it always does.  I'll be back, you can handle Redlin.  I know you can," said Harper as he led the way to the door, ushering Matt from the room and back down the hall. 

            Matt took once last glance at Dana as he was propelled away and reined in his thoughts.  He was going to have to focus on being one of Redlin's monsters for awhile.  They reached the first observation room and Matt looked through the glass.  The woman was on the far side of the room, curled around herself shaking so hard he could see the vibration from where he stood.

            "I'll see you, Matt," said Harper as he turned to leave the viewing room.

            "Harper!  Wait.  Here, take this," said Matt, pressing the anti-viral vial into Harper's hand.  "Claire can make more."  Harper nodded and left the room.  Matt located a clipboard and pulled up a chair, settling into his act, Redlin would expect notes.

            Harper hurried down the hall, returning to a small unused office he had located earlier.  He pulled out his cell phone and called his Agency contact, it was going to be a hard trip, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel.    
            As he clapped the phone shut, he heard the rhythm of footsteps in the hall.  He looked at his watch, guards were right on time.  Waiting until he could no longer hear them, he slipped from the office and made his way back to Dana's observation room.  

            Carefully, he opened the door, crossed the viewing room, and entered the observation room.  Dana had woken and was now crying, tears mixing with the blood she was coughing up.  

            "Dana?" he asked quietly, not wanting to startle her.

            "Jenny," came to plaintive wail.  Harper had assumed that the caretaker down the hall must be Jenny.

            "Shh, Jenny's not here.  I'm Harper," he said, hunkering down to her level.  Dana looked at him with piercing blue eyes, much like her father's.  "A good doctor gave you some medicine that's going to make you feel better, but we can't stay here," Harper continued, trying to keep her calm.

            "Where's Jenny?" asked Dana softly, lucidity overcoming the fever.

            "Jenny's getting better too.  You'll see her later.  But you know what?"  Dana shook her head slightly, "We're going to go see your mommy," said Harper.  "But you have to be very quiet, ok?"  Dana nodded and coughed, bringing more blood to her lips, which she wiped away with a frightened look.  

            "You're going to be alright," said Harper, picking her up not caring about possible infection anymore.  She melded to his shoulder and he backed out of the room.  He was amazed and a little frightened by how hot she was where her face rested against his neck.  

            He took them deeper into the sublevel, nearing what was mostly utility access.  He keyed open a door with a guard's keycard he had liberated earlier and brought them into a narrow repair access.  He walked quickly and silently, knowing that this particular tunnel reached a set of stairs that opened to a storm drain at the edge of the compound.  That would then be the most dangerous part, getting them away from the compound unseen.

            Harper reached the cement stairs and began his ascent, stopping at landings to listen for any sounds of company.  He reached the surface and keyed open that door, surprised by the burst of cool air.  He felt Dana shiver and tried to keep her close.  He walked along the now dry cement heading to the square of light at the end that was freedom.  He neared the end of the tunnel and carefully set Dana down about fifteen feet from the mouth.  

            "I'll be right back," he said, squeezing her hand.  He walked to the mouth of the drain and cautiously looked around, trying to spot any guards or patrols.  Once he was satisfied there was no one about, he returned to Dana.  

            "This is where you have to be very quiet and very still, ok?"  Dana nodded and tightened her hold.  He walked to the mouth of the drain and looked around again, double checking.  Silently, trying to stay in the shadows, he crossed the open expanse that lead away from the buildings behind him.  Stratagen technically owned most of the area but once he reached the perimeter road they would be safe.

            The walk was long, longer than Harper had originally estimated.  He had forgotten Dana would act almost as dead weight in her state.  He continued, only once bringing them to the ground when he thought he heard an engine.  When nothing came of it, he decided it must have been an echo.

            In the distance he could see the winding strip of dirt road, and as he continued to draw closer, the small speck that was an Agency vehicle.  Seeing success in sight, Harper quickened his pace.  He covered the last of the distance, coming into view of the other agents.

            "Stop!  Federal Agent, identify yourself," a voice commanded.

            "Agent Adrian Harper, number 3245072384, currently embedded inside the Stratagen biological company," replied Harper calmly.

            "Welcome back, Agent Harper," said a familiar voice and he turned to see Bobby Hobbes standing next to the vehicle.  "How is she?" he asked, indicating Dana.

            "Burning up, she needs water," said Harper, moving to the car and setting Dana in the back seat.  

            "Water we can do," replied Bobby, "now let's get you two out of here," he continued, climbing into the front passenger seat of the car as Harper climbed into the back next to Dana. 

            Harper reached out to take the bottle of water that Bobby held out to him and screwed off the cap.  He turned to Dana tilting her head up and holding the bottle to her lips.

            "Come on, Dana, you need to drink," Harper urged.  She whimpered and turned away from the bottle.  He tried again and managed to get her to sip at the moisture.  

            "There's a plane waiting to take off for San Diego in Odessa.  We'll be at the airport in 30 minutes," reported Bobby, watching Harper trying to get Dana to drink.

            "Does Claire know?" Harper asked setting the water bottle down.

            "No," was the succinct answer.  Bobby watched Harper tear a strip of material from a towel and wet it with water, gently placing it on Dana's forehead.  This was the first time Bobby had seen Dana outside of the Chrysalis compound, and that had been two years ago, a year after he'd been recruited by The Agency.

            Bobby had been recruited away from the FBI in 1999 and had been trained to replace Harper inside Stratagen when the QS-9300 project had come to fruition.  His superiors decided he was more useful in a guarding position for the new subject in San Diego where he would be working with Ellen Parker and could later be placed in Stratagen once the QS-9300 project has become settled.  His placement and previous training also allowed him to become Harper's contact.  Now things had gone to hell again and he was in charge of getting Dana back to San Diego to see her mother since there was no known cure for the virus with which she had been infected.  

           He watched the girl breathe, seeing the strain that came with every breath.  She couldn't possibly have much time left.  Claire thought Dana was gone and it seemed that she wasn't far from the truth.  Bobby glanced at his watch, 10 minutes until they made the airport and then an hour and half flight to San Diego.  They were going to be cutting it close.

            Matt looked to the respiratory monitor linked to the Chrysalis caretaker, he had convinced Redlin that in order to change the genetic code of the virus he needed to have detailed notes on its current effects on the human body.  The machine beeped and he watched as the numbers dropped only to return to normal and remain steady.  The woman was well within the third and terminal stage of infection but thanks to the anti-viral, the viral progression had stopped before it became life threatening.

            No longer at the hands of Redlin's mercy, the caretaker has been placed in a smaller room with a bed and the equipment Matt had requested.  He had remained in her room, encased in gown, gloves, and mask watching monitors and taking notes, playing his villain role well. 

            The caretaker had remained unconscious from not long after the administration of the anti-viral and although it didn't worry Matt, she should have been regaining consciousness soon.  He moved to her side and checked her pupils with his penlight.  The irises contracted normally and he turned to pick up his stethoscope, placing it to her chest.  He listened carefully; the wet crackles and rales hadn't decreased as much as they should have by now.  

            "Davila," Matt called as he completed a blood draw, smoothing a label onto the tube.  "Take this to my lab, I want a complete viral count immediately," he instructed the aid who entered the room from the hall.  

            "Yes sir," the young man replied and left with the tube encased in a Ziploc bag and carried gingerly down the hall.  People were afraid of the virus and rightly so.

            Matt turned his attention back to the woman, watching her thoughtfully.  He checked the O2 saturation, one canine worrying his lower lip, not high enough to be normal.  He adjusted the finger lead just as she started coughing, more blood coming to her lips.  Bright red, not the darker blood that he had seen in the last few hours that was from the first ruptures, this was a new rupture.  He grabbed the stethoscope again and followed the rales up her lungs; there had to be a hemorrhage on the left side, slowly drowning her.

            The respiration monitor released a shrill chirp as she started to arrest, blood choking her throat and flooding her lungs.  The virus hadn't been stopped Matt realized, slowed yes, but not stopped.  It had reached the terminal point when the pneumorrhagia became too massive for the body to cope with it.  She may die in a few minutes, it might stretch out for hours while her body fought and lost.

            "Damn it," Matt cursed as he suctioned away blood and opened an intubation tray.  He deftly inserted the tube and increased the oxygen flow, hoping to give her a chance but knowing it was a lost cause.  

            "Sir!  Lab results," Davila spoke up behind him.  Matt grabbed the print out, trying to keep the shock off his face.  The viral load looked as though the anti-viral had never been introduced.  

            "Go back, tell them to run a hydrolased glycoprotein screen," demanded Matt.  He needed to know why this anti-viral didn't work.

            "That's for anti-viral screening sir."

            "Just do it!" shouted Matt, hovering over the caretaker.  It didn't work, and Dana had been worse when he had given her the anti-viral.  It would only buy her a couple more hours, and now he didn't have a contact, he had no way to tell Claire.

            "I thought you said we had time," Bobby demanded of Harper over the roar of the jet engines, wiping more blood away from Dana's mouth.  

            "We do.  Matt gave her the anti-viral, it just takes time," replied Harper, equally agitated, hoping his words were correct.  

            Bobby had been surprised to learn there was an anti-viral against APF and relieved when Harper had told him Matt had given both the caretaker and Dana a dose, but now Dana had deteriorated on the flight to San Diego from which they were only 20 minutes away.  

            "What if we gave her more?" asked Bobby.  Harper had told him about the vial Matt had given him before he left.

            Harper looked from the other agent to Dana, seeing the effort it took her to breathe.  It might work.  "Need a needle," he replied.

            Bobby got up from his seat, and moved to the rear of the small plane, retrieving a kit from a cabinet.  He flipped open the clasps and pulled out a hypodermic.  "Fawkes has never flown on the plane but we're always ready," explained Bobby, handing the syringe to Harper.

            Harper took the needle with shaking hands, trying to remember how much Matt had first given her.  He inverted the vial as he had seen Matt do and uncapped the needle and drew up what seemed to be the same amount.

            Hands still shaking, he moved to Dana's side, pushing up her shirt sleeve.  He took the alcohol wipe Bobby handed him and swabbed her arm.  "Sorry kid, haven't done this in a while," muttered Harper as he stuck the needle into her arm and depressed the plunger.  Dana cried out weakly, bringing more blood to her lips.  

            "Sirs?  We're closing in on the airport, priority landing.  Any assistance needed?"

            "Yes!  Have an ambulance waiting, infectious disease protocols in place.  Need police escort to the Rothe Building," Bobby instructed the pilot who radioed his orders to the flight tower.  He couldn't call ahead from the plane on his cell phone because it could interrupt the radio transmissions and Bobby prayed that Claire was on the premises.  

            The small jet landed with a thump, jostling its passengers and eliciting a cry from Dana.  Harper gathered her up in a blanket and Bobby opened the hatch, bright southern California sun pouring into the cabin.  Bobby hurried down the stairs running to the ambulance and its sterilely clad personnel.   

            Harper followed close behind, handing Dana up to Bobby who placed her on the stretcher as attendants swarmed over her.  The coughing and amount of blood had lessened and Harper assumed that the anti-viral was taking effect again as he climbed into the back of the ambulance.

            The ambulance sped through the San Diego streets, taking them to the Rothe Building in record time.  Bobby threw open the doors and rushed to the door, keying it open.  Agents Thorsrud and MacKinnon snapped to attention at the commotion and Bobby instructed them to clear the halls to The Keep.  

            Harper followed Bobby, Dana in his arms.  She was unconscious again, head resting against his chest, the blood from her lungs soaking into his shirt.  He realized both he and Bobby had been directly exposed, although the others were relatively safe since Matt was positive the virus didn't aerosolize.  Moving into the recesses of the Rothe Building, they neared The Keep.  Bobby slid his keycard through the port and the heavy door moved aside with a groan.  Claire looked up from her computer monitor, weary frustration creasing her features. 

            "Bobby?" she asked confusion evident.

            "It's ok; Claire, she's here, but you gotta help her.  Harper thinks the anti-viral doesn't work," explained Bobby, as Harper passed him, moving to the examining chair with his bundle.

            "Who's here?  Help who?" asked Claire, watching Harper settle the blanket wrapped figure.  A small blanket wrapped figure she realized.  She moved to the examining chair, a sweeping rush of adrenaline flowing through her when Harper turned back the corner of the blanket revealing Dana's face.

            Matt looked over the latest set of lab reports on the virus in the caretaker's system, disgustedly frustrated with the failure of his anti-viral.  The aides that had been assigned him had wrapped, bagged, and removed the caretaker's body, taking it down to the incinerator to destroy any evidence of Redlin's guilt.

Matt's only hope at the moment was that Harper had gotten Dana to Claire in time for her to realize the sialidase wasn't working completely.  According to the test results, only free viruses were affected by the anti-viral.  It didn't prevent the replication inside the host cell, so for every one virus that managed to infect a cell, hundreds more were produced, the anti-viral couldn't keep up.

He gathered up the half true notes he had made for Redlin and left the room.  As he walked down the hall an ear piercing klaxon reverberated through the sublevel.  Matt clapped his hands to his ears and felt himself shoved into a wall as a barrage of guards ran past, down the hall to the room where Dana had been held.

 He turned to continue down the hall when a hand rested on his shoulder, "Dr. Ashbury?  I'm Dr. Claudia Serrano, we need to talk."

Claire checked the hydrolization of the anti-viral for what had to be the hundredth time in the last hour.  So far it was working piggy-backed on a viral neutralization agent which allowed it enough time to destroy the free viruses.  

She was still running on an adrenaline high that threatened to make her faint as she moved to Dana's side once more, drawing a small tube of blood for a viral load count.  She reached up to brush the dark hair away from her daughter's face, something she hadn't been able to do for the last two years.  Claire wished she was conscious, but with being intubated the sedation was necessary.  Forcing herself to process the blood sample she moved away from the bed.  

She heard a cough and turned to see Harper caught in a spasm.  She had run a viral pathology screen on him and found the virus in its early stages in his system from his contact with Dana.  She had given him a dose of the anti-viral as soon as she had been able to restructure it.  Harper's earlier guess that the anti-viral wasn't working had been correct.  She had examined what was left of the vial Harper had and quickly realized that the basis and theory behind it was sound it just didn't work inside the host cell and thus couldn't keep up with the viral replication.  Adding a viral neutralizer to the serum prevented new host cell infection and allowed the sialidase to work.  She had run a viral pathology on Bobby was well and found no infection, but gave him a dose as well in case the virus hadn't enough time to show up in the blood work.

"How's she doing, Keep?" asked Darien.  He had followed Bobby and Harper into The Keep after their rather noisy and hasty arrival.  

"Better, Dahrien, better.  It's going to be a struggle for her body to repair itself, but the prognosis is good," replied Claire, as she watched the ventilator gently force air into the small body.

"And Bobby and uh, Harper?"

"They're both fine."

"Hey, Fawkes," Bobby called across The Keep, summoning his partner.  Darien squeezed Claire's hand and covered the small distance of the new lab to Harper's bedside.

"The Official wants us to get Ashbury," Bobby began.

"Ashbury?  Matthew Ashbury?" asked Claire incredulously from Dana's bedside.

Harper pressed his lips together in a grim line, "Matt's been inside Stratagen for the last six years, Claire.  That's where the anti-viral came from."

Claire digested this information.  "How could he create the anti-viral, this virus has a very unique protein structure, unless…no, he wouldn't," she said determinedly.

"APF, Ashbury's Pneumorrhagic Fever.  It wasn't his fault Claire.  Redlin threatened him; it tore him up knowing he created something so horrible.  That's why he made the anti-viral," explained Harper.

"People have died.  Agents, innocents, Dana, he almost killed Dana," said Claire, voice ending in a whisper, shaking her head.  

"It wasn't his fault, Claire," said Harper again, another cough spasm hitting him.

Claire remained silent, sitting at Dana's side, holding her hand.

"Anyways," Bobby began again, "Harper's in no shape to extract Ashbury so you and I are on it Fawkes.  The bad news is we have to get into Stratagen; the good news is we might not have to go very far.  Harper's told me how he got Dana out and one Dr. Serrano is currently cultivating Matt as we speak."

"Serrano?  Claudia Serrano?" asked Harper.

"Yes," answered Bobby.

"When did you guys flip her?  I know I reported her as a mole, but you never told me you managed to flip her," said Harper.

"Amazing what a few years of jail time hanging over your head will do," commented Darien dryly.

"We flipped her about a year ago.  She's been working for us, feeding Redlin just enough information to keep him interested without endangering the assignment.  She doesn't know about you Harper, or Dana, or Claire.  She was placed here to get information about the QS-9300 Project, which she does know about.  Now that we need to get Ashbury out of Stratagen, she's gone back since Redlin still trusts her and she's supposed to make contact when she has Ashbury," explained Bobby.

"So, let me guess.  We go in under the radar," said Darien, Quicksilvering a hand to indicate his point and catching the shocked look on Harper's face, "And get Ashbury and Serrano out of the compound."

"Exactly."

"I'll be needing a shot then and probably one for the road," replied Darien, holding up his right wrist displaying the five red segments.

Bobby turned to Claire and saw that she was already preparing a syringe to go and another one for now.  She came to Darien's side and prepped the inside of his elbow and neatly slid the needle into the exposed vein.  Darien grimaced as the Counteragent hit his system, taking a deep breath waiting for the shock to settle.  

"When do we leave?" asked Darien through gritted teeth.

"Now, my friend," replied Bobby.

"Who are you?" asked Matt warily.

"Like I said, Dr. Claudia Serrano.  I'm here to get you out."

"You're with The Agency too?"

"I was actually sent to The Agency as a spy.  Let's say they made me an offer I couldn't refuse and now I work for them.  Now, let's get out of here," she said, grabbing him by the hand.

"Where are we going?" asked Matt, panic showing in his voice as he realized she was pulling him towards the direction where the guards had run to earlier.

"There's access to a storm drain from here, or so I've been told."

Matt followed reluctantly, sticking with Serrano in the shadows and walking as quietly as possible, shedding his lab coat to aid in his attempt.  They found themselves at a locked engineering access. 

Claudia slid a keycard through the port and the door clicked open.  Matt walked single file behind Claudia, ducking some of the lower pipes.  This must have been how Harper had removed Dana.  Matt's heart tightened and his breath caught when he thought of Dana.  He still had no idea if Claire had been successful in treating her.  They began to ascend a staircase, the cement steps absorbing the sound of their soft footfalls. 

"We're supposed to make the perimeter road and if they're not there, keep going," whispered Serrano from in front of Matt as she unlocked a second door.  Matt felt the gush of cool air as the door opened and he realized they were indeed in a storm drain.  He saw the square of light that was the mouth of the drain and followed Claudia towards it.  

"We're not going to be there in time," said Darien, checking his watch.  The flight back to Odessa and the 30 minute drive from the airport seemed to stretch on for eternity.  

"Serrano has her orders," said Bobby.

"Two unarmed doctors," said Darien, stressing the occupational word, "Trying to escape these Stratagen people in the middle of nowhere?  Why am I not reassured?"

"They'll be fine Fawkes," answered Bobby gruffly.  His partner was voicing the same worries he felt.

Matt and Claudia reached the mouth of the tunnel, the cool night air causing them both to shiver.  They stepped out cautiously, well aware of the exposed land around them.  They were completely vulnerable.  Claudia set out first, walking resolutely across the dirt populated by a few low shrubs.

Matt followed more tentatively, some gut feeling telling him this was wrong, this was too easy.  Just as his mind settled on the word trap, the area around them was flooded with glaring light and they were commanded to stop.

Claudia turned to Matt, "Sorry," she said quietly with anything but apology on her face.

Matt bit back a couple of curses and capitulated to the patrol's demands.  Kneeling in the dirt with his hands now secured behind his back he saw Claudia talking with one of the men he recognized from the group that had rushed to the room Dana had been in when it was discovered she was gone.

"Where is she?" a voice commanded, one Matt recognized as Redlin's.

Matt remained quiet, staring straight ahead.

"I said, where is she?" he demanded a second time.  When Matt still refused to answer, Redlin made a small gesture with his hand and Matt felt the sharp impact of a heavy boot meeting with his side.

Matt lay curled in dirt, unable to defend himself beyond his fetal position with his hands cuffed behind him.  Blows rained on him, sharp kicks connecting with his ribs, back, and face.  He could taste the blood filling his mouth from split lips and broken nose.  A mild command from Redlin stopped the assault and Matt drew a painful breath.

"Where is she, Ashbury?" asked Redlin again, coming into his view.  Matt caught the sight of a hypodermic in Redlin's hand.  "Tell me where she is, Ashbury," Redlin threatened again, stabbing the needle into Matt's biceps.  Matt jerked at the pain, the burning sensation spreading throughout his arm.  Matt tried to jerk away from the hypodermic when a shot rang out, followed by a pained groan and the thud of dead weight hitting the ground.  

"Federal Agent!  Drop your weapons!" commanded Bobby.

Claudia ran for Bobby's side, skillfully played panic and innocence on her face, "They ambushed us," she shouted.

"Traitorous bitch," yelled Redlin, firing three well aimed shots at Serrano.  She fell and was still, blood pooling around her.

More shots crashed through the air, striking flesh and shattering bone.  Two more of Redlin's patrol dropped to the ground as Redlin himself ran for and ducked into a waiting vehicle.  The car sped away in a volley of gunfire, somehow unharmed.  Another guard found himself tripped and punched by an unseen force, eventually ending up heaped on the ground.  

"Fawkes?  Where are you partner?" called Bobby as he secured the three remaining conscious guards with cuffs.  Darien shimmered into view, Quicksilver flaking off of him.  "Check him," Bobby instructed, nodding towards Matt as he cuffed the one unconscious man.  Darien moved to Matt's side, keying the cuffs open and rolling the man from his face down position.  He sputtered and spit out a mouthful of blood before sitting up. 

"Dana?"

"She's with Claire," answered Darien, helping the doctor to his feet.  

"She's ok?" asked Matt with disbelief.  "The anti-viral, it doesn't work."

"Claire fixed it.  Dana's ok," repeated Darien as he directed him towards Bobby.

"Agent Hobbes," said Bobby, nodding towards Matt, who had removed his torn and bloody shirt in order to use it to stem his nosebleed.

"Matthew Ashbury," replied Matt thickly.

"I know.  Come on, you're going home."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Title: Deleri**

**Author: BethCarielle**

**See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Details.**

**Chapter Seven**

"The nanobots are in place?"

"Yes, sir."

"And reports on information obtained?"

"Being compiled, sir."

Jason Redlin nodded and waved his assistant away.  He sat back in his black leather chair, hands folded comfortably across his abdomen.  Doctor Serrano may have betrayed him, and Adrian Harper may have avoided his notice and released Doctor Ashbury and his daughter, but he still had a few more tricks up his sleeve.

            "What do you mean 'she's a risk'?"

            "Exactly that Agent Harper.  She needs to be removed from this facility immediately."

            "But you know The Keeper won't let her go."

            "Doctor Keeply has no say in the matter.  Assemble your team and prepare to act.  You have three hours," finished The Official with a wave of dismissal.

            Harper released a weary sigh, nodding as he stood up from the wooden chair in front of The Official's desk.  He crossed the office in silence and let himself out.  Closing the door behind him, he leaned against the edge of the jamb.  Three weeks had passed since he had 'completed' his assignment within Stratagen, completed in the sense that his cover had been blown.  Matt was one of three people he was originally responsible for freeing from Stratagen, Dana had become an unexpected fourth.  Doctor Arwyn Noël was still trapped at Stratagen and the third had not been revealed to him at the time of his discovery.

            Doctor Noël was a doctorate in biotechnology and biophysics.  She, like Matthew Ashbury, had been blackmailed into Stratagen with threats against her children.  Her sons, six and eight, where in The Agency's Chrysalis Program; her husband, Agent Ryan Larke, was employed by The Agency, while Noël had remained employed by a private company.  Thirteen months ago, Arwyn Noël was abducted in the parking garage that served the building where her labs were located.  When her location was discovered, she had been added to Harper's assignment.  

            Harper had been able to make contact with Noël shortly before Redlin's abduction of Dana Ashbury.  Dana's abduction forced Harper's hand and he had to make the decision to leave Noël uninformed and inside Stratagen.  The one piece of information he had been able to leave her was his source number inside The Agency.  He had hoped that she would be able to make contact to Hobbes safely and that her eventual release could be orchestrated.  

            Harper had been shocked to learn that Noël had in fact been able to contact Hobbes about a week ago.  The information she imparted was grave.  During her time within Stratagen she had been assigned to work on nanobot technology given to Stratagen by Jared Stark.  She informed Hobbes that at the time of Dana's abduction she was not only infected with the virus designed by her father, but she had also been infected with the new nanobots she had designed, nanobots that Claire wouldn't be able to neutralize.

            Her call confirmed two things: one, Dana was a risk and needed to be removed; two, Stratagen had communication and cooperation with Jared Stark's Chrysalis.  Suspicions of the latter had been voiced when Dana's whereabouts had been so easily found by Redlin's people.

            Chrysalis operations were frozen immediately after Dana's abduction and two low-level aides had been ferreted out as Stark's people.  They had been funneling information about children back to Redlin via an easily hacked file system linked to Chrysalis' computers.  This system was responsible for the information gained on Dana Ashbury, and Jeff and Scott Larke.  The Chrysalis Program was still under scrutiny with the computer systems offline and limited communication in the higher power levels only.

            Harper pulled out of his slump and glanced at his watch, he had two hours and 45 minutes to assemble his team of agents to remove Dana Ashbury from the building by all means necessary.  Dana would then be taken to a secure location where hopefully, with Noël's help, the nanobots could be deactivated.  Right now, The Official was trying to institute damage control, tracking and tracing Dana's whereabouts in the last three weeks, trying to determine who and what may have been exposed to the living transmitter.  Insofar, the Quicksilver Project appeared to still be unexposed.  Walking down the hall, Harper paused outside an office.  Raising his hand, he rapped his knuckles against the wood in quick succession.  

            "Come in!" called a muffled voice through the door.  Harper turned the handle and let himself into Bobby Hobbes' sparsely furnished office.  The older agent looked up expectantly at Harper's entrance.

            "Now?" asked Bobby, reading the expression on Harper's face.

            "Now," replied Harper with a sigh.  

            "Where are they?" asked Bobby, meaning Claire, Matt, and Dana.

            "Dana is with her mother at Claire's town house.  Ashbury has been placed in an Agency safe house.  Both are guarded."

            "Does Claire know?"

            "No.  That's part of our assignment," said Harper quietly.  

            "And Fawkes?"

            "He's not to be part of the team.  The Official has him on another assignment."

            "He what?  Where is he?  He can't go off alone because of the madness," said Bobby worried.

            Harper had only seen a brief glimpse of the success of The Invisible Man.  "He's not alone, Agent Carreras is with him, and we're to join him after this assignment."

            Bobby sighed resting his head in his hands, elbows propped on his desk; the day would not end well.

"Dana!  Dana, no!  Don't take her, please don't take her!  Dana!"  Claire's voice shattered the silence of the neighborhood as a nurse, Prudence MacKay, carried Dana from the house.  Harper and Hobbes, both grim in their intent, restrained The Keeper as her daughter was led away.  

"Mommy!"  Dana's shrill wail pierced Claire's cries and she struggled to free herself from her co-workers' grasp.  

"Claire!  No.  It's for her own good," Harper pleaded, tightening his grip on her upper arm.

"I will not lose her again," growled Claire, wrenching free from Bobby's grasp.  With one arm released, Claire leveraged herself from Harper's grip as well and ran down the sidewalk after the nurse.  Another figure appeared in Claire's vision and she saw Matt coming up the driveway, confusion evident on his face. 

"What's going on?  Where are you taking her?" asked Matt in panic.  He saw Claire's grief stricken face and watched as Harper and Hobbes restrained her once more.  

"They're taking her away again.  They can't, I won't let them!" shouted Claire, still struggling.

"Taking her where?  Why!" demanded Matt.

"She's a security risk.  It's the nanobots.  We can't help her here," explained Bobby tersely.  

Matt looked from Claire to where the nurse was trying to coax Dana into the back of a black sedan without a fight.  He looked back at Claire; he knew she was bound by the contract she had inadvertently agreed to 14 years ago.  Dana had been safe, but that safety had been threatened, and now she was being forced to leave her child once more.  

Matt thought of the sheaf of papers sitting back at the safe house where he was being guarded by Agency agents around the clock.  The papers were a contract and employment agreement being offered him by The Agency.  It was a good arrangement.  He would be within a better organization and he would know that both Claire and Dana were safe.  He'd been on his way to Claire's town house to discuss the contract when he walked into the middle of Dana's removal.  He hadn't signed anything yet, he was still a free citizen.

Running from where Claire stood, Matt reached the nurse's side. 

"You will release her to me," he commanded.  Surprised, the nurse lost her grip on the struggling child and Matt took her.  Holding her, he tried to calm her hysterical tears when The Official appeared from a second dark vehicle.  

"Don't do this, Ashbury.  You could have so much more," intoned the large man.

"I have all I need," replied Matt with contempt.

The Official nodded and made a small gesture with his hand.  "Take them both," he muttered as other agents moved in around Matt.  

Matt, realizing what was happening, held Dana tighter.  "I love you, sweetheart," he murmured and turned to face Claire, who was still half-way down the sidewalk with Harper and Hobbes at her sides.  "I love you, Claire.  I've got her now," he called, giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  The agents ushered Matt into the car and closed the door with a thump.  One of the agents climbed into the front passenger seat and the car pulled away from the curb.

Claire stood in shock, emotions warring within her.  She realized Bobby and Adrian still held her and she roughly shook off their grasp.  "Get your bloody hands off me," she spat, moving away from them.

"Claire, she wasn't safe, we had to," began Bobby.

"I don't care what you had to do.  She's my daughter, and you've taken her from me twice now!  Haven't you done enough already?" she screamed, turning to The Official.  "I'm yours; I'm your bloody fucking slave.  You own my life, what more do you want from me?" demanded Claire.  The Official stood non-plussed, his face impassive to the verbal assault.  

"We have what we need, Doctor."  And with that he turned and climbed into the second car, which pulled away and disappeared down the street.  

Charles Borden sat silently in the car as it sped down familiar San Diego streets.  He had done what he was instructed when he told his supervisor about the risk Dana presented.  If only The Keeper knew how much they shared in common.

The sedan slowed to a stop outside the Rothe Building and Borden climbed from his seat.  He entered and made his way to his office, waving the attentions of his assistant away.  The picture of himself and John F. Kennedy glared harshly under the fluorescent light of his office.  Had that really been almost 35 years ago?  When that photo had been taken Logan Bradbury had been a young bureaucrat, quickly rising through the ranks.  In the photo he was being commended for his achievements in national security, right before he had been transferred to an area of government he hadn't known to exist.  

            The Secret Weapons Research Branch was known to a select few, and fewer still were directly connected to the organization.  The government had to keep its plausible deniability in-tact.

            He remembered the excitement and nervous energy of the day when he was officially and secretly awarded his top most level security clearance and service weapon.  All members of the SWRB were to be armed, if not to dispatch those who threatened security, than to take their own lives as not be responsible for divulging information if captured.

            His first eight years in the SWRB were everything a young man of the Cold War era could want; intrigue, clandestine meetings and drop sites, tension and suspense abound; Bradbury loved it, thrived on it, until the QS Project was announced.  He hated what the QS Project had done to him.  With the development of the theories and new science, the QS Project came into conflict within the SWRB. 

            The SWRB had been divided into two main sectors: one dealing with the mechanical weapons and the other developing biological and chemical weaponry.  Logan Bradbury was an upper level administrator, his field days behind him, when the QS Project was dropped into his hands.  He was instructed to head the project and appease the warring sides, both of whom thought that Quicksilver technology should be under their jurisdiction.

            Bradbury tried to separate areas of the project, satisfying each side, but failed.  He handed it to the mechanical team, citing his beliefs that the technology could be used to create invisible assassins, who were in a sense, weapons.  Ann Rolbin, in her fury at being denied the project, left the SWRB, taking most of the biological sector with her.  She had gone on to form Stratagen.  With her government contacts and secrets she was able to keep her organization under the radar, eventually escaping all government support and inquiry.  

            The mechanical team with their lack of knowledge about the detailed biological ramifications of the QS Project, failed in creating invisible assassins and instead racked up a body count of human subjects, each being someone who's death needed explanation.  Bradbury had lost count of how many wives, mothers, sons and daughters he had to explain to that their family member wasn't coming back, leaving them with an unlikely story that the decedent had been killed in action in service of the CIA, NSA, or other organization.  

            As he suspected it would happen, one family chose not to take the cover story, opening a law suit against the government.  With high powered attorneys and rabid media coverage on the impending government scandal and cover up, the SWRB was forced to give up its secrets, including Logan Bradbury and all the files on the QS Project.  Bradbury was the SWRB's fall guy.  Being in charge of the project, he was the first person to be arrested in the investigation.  

            Having his government status stripped from him Bradbury was carted off to a federal prison where he was intercepted upon his arrival.  Another little known organization within the United States government had taken an interest in him and the project he was taking the fall for.  In the summer of 1978, Logan Bradbury was forcibly recruited by The Agency to become Charles Borden, The Official in charge of developing QS technology.  

            The scientists working under The Official were however not capable of performing the necessary procedures to advance the QS Project and The Agency began its search for up and coming minds to head the project.  Twelve years had passed before academics with the proper education began flowing through the higher education system of America.  Ellen Parker, a British born and raised immigrant, was making spectacular progress in genetic and biochemical studies.  With their sights set on making an offer to the young British woman they lost their opportunity when she joined a private company.  

            The opportunity represented itself when the company, the almost forgotten about Stratagen, was raided by the federal government for selling biological weapons to countries for use against the US.  Ellen Parker was arrested in the mass of scientists and administrators responsible for the development of the weapons.  The Agency stepped in and made an offer she couldn't refuse and effectively erased Ellen Parker, leaving Claire in her place.  

            After almost losing Ellen, The Agency started assigning clandestine Keepers to its future employees, placing Claire with Kevin Fawkes, a brilliant bioengineer and geneticist.  Charles Borden was pleased to have such talented minds at his disposal and soon after Kevin Fawkes' recruitment the QS Project began to take shape, becoming a definitive possibility.  Claire had then been placed in other Keeper positions, not all as successful as Kevin Fawkes, much to The Official's ire.  

            And now she was the only successful Invisible Man's Keeper, an assignment that wasn't supposed to last beyond 12 months.  Prior to Kevin's death, there were plans for Claire's release from her contract and an offer of a much coveted position on one of The Agency's research teams where Claire could lead a more normal nine to five existence.  When Kevin had been killed another scientist was needed immediately and Claire was The Agency's only option.  

            The Official saw the Rothe Building come into view and he considered his next move.  He needed to extract Doctor Noël from Stratagen.  She would be able to reverse engineer the nanobots infecting Dana.  He had already sent Agents Fawkes and Carreras ahead to Odessa where they were awaiting Hobbes and Harper's arrival.  The four agents had orders to retrieve doctor Noël and neutralize any Stratagen targets they may come in contact with.  

            Settling in his office, The Official opened a file folder and sorted through the papers within.  Suffering from some twisted version of empty nest syndrome, The Official sighed and carefully signed the orders sending Harper to act as Keeper for Matt and Dana, and hopefully, eventually, Claire.  

Picking up a second sheet, he signed Bobby over to the Stratagen investigative team.  The team had been created after Stratagen had made themselves known again, 14 years ago.  It was the team Bobby originally had been trained for.

A third set papers was sending Agent Larke to The Agency office in Denver where Doctor Noël would be free to join him.  The second page detailed the release and transfer for Larke and Noël's sons from the Chrysalis program to be with their parents.  

Looking from the file folder, The Official picked up the receiver of his phone and dialed the strike team leader.  Hearing the confirmation of their position, he gave the signal.

            "Sir?  The nanobot reports, sir," said Redlin's assistant as he handed the sheaf of papers to his boss.

            Redlin took the papers and began to leaf through them, waving his assistant away.  Flipping past the first pages detailing Dana's incarceration in his facility before Ashbury knew of her presence, Redlin read the reports on what had been gathered from the doctor.  He had a suspicion that Doctor Ashbury had been playing him for the last six years and that Harper probably had something to do with it.  Instead of calling them on it, he watched them carefully.  There was no one else with Ashbury's viral skill, and he wanted his virus.  

            Now, he knew that shortly after the virus had been hybridized successfully, Ashbury had also created an anti-viral against it.  An ineffective one, improved upon by Doctor Parker.  This improvement had been successful in combating the virus as seen in Dana Ashbury, Harper, Robert Hobbes, and Doctor Ashbury himself.  

            Moving a couple of pages forward, he came to a highlighted area concerning what had been called the Quicksilver Project.  Jason Redlin had seen the reports and read the documents concerning biological invisibility.  From what he knew, it was a myth of the Vietnam era, the government's quest to create invisible soldiers.  It had failed and the government's blame rested on one Logan Bradbury.  Further reports indicated that Bradbury had been "removed" and the project scrapped.

            Now the information gained from the implanted nanobots indicated a different story.  Although there had been no visual confirmation of the Quicksilver Project, there had been a few audio transmissions referring to it.  So The Agency was indeed successful in creating an Invisible Man.  

            "Are you sure this is the way?" asked Darien as he followed the other team members through the labyrinth of maintenance tunnels.  

            "Positive, Fawkes," echoed a new voice through the tinny earpiece.  

            "Hobbes?"

            "On your six, my friend."

            "I thought you weren't in on this."  
            "I had another…assignment."

            "Assignment?  Hobbes, what happened?"

            "Nothing, Darien.  Focus on this first," replied the elder Agent sternly.

            Darien buried the spike of adrenaline, and continued on the path into the Stratagen complex.  They were taking a risk trying to access the compound this way since their cover had been blown by the nanobots, but they had been given an order to use all force necessary to accomplish their objective.  They reached a stair access and Darien was called to the front.  

            Checking his hip he felt the familiar pre-loaded syringe of Counteragent.  He was on his own now, he had 30 minutes to extract Doctor Noël and another 30 minutes if he used the second dose of Counteragent.  

            He slipped into the stairwell as Quicksilver flowed over his body and quietly moved down a flight of stairs, placing him at the S1 sublevel.  Moving silently down the hall past observation rooms and other unmarked doors, Darien made his way to the end of the hall and to another stairwell that unobtrusively took him up into the heart of the Stratagen complex. 

            "At the S1 N0 junction," he radioed back.  

            "Good," replied Hobbes fainter voice.  "Up one more flight of stairs, and first turn on your right."

            Darien followed the instructions and found himself at an airlock.  "Hobbes, where am I?"

            "Static free technological development department.  Through the doors, you'll have to wait for the airlock to cycle and then all the way down the hall and to the left."

            "Isn't the airlock cycling on empty going to alert someone?"

            "Negative.  It runs continuously at any hint of pressure change.  They're rather picky about their electronics."

            Darien stepped through the double doors and felt the pressure change as the airlock cycled.  The inner doors clicked open and he continued down the hall reading the sign that pointed left through his altered Quicksilver vision.  'Division of Microbiological Technology.'  Nanobots.  "Now where, Hobbes?"

            "Third door on the right.  Remember, she's not expecting you.  Try not to frighten her."

            "Cameras in her lab?"

            "Negative.  The wireless transmissions are too dangerous to have around the nanos.  You're running at 17 minutes Quicksilver time Fawkes."

            "Affirmative.  I'll see you in 15 more," and with that Darien removed the earpiece and pushed open the door to Arwyn's lab.  Unlike the medical labs he had grown accustom to, this room was stark in its lack of supplies.  Everything carefully packed away and only a high-powered microscope and a tray of microtools at its side gave away the hint of any activity that occurred in this room.  

            A mid-height, curly haired woman was bent over a lab notebook carefully printing figures in neat rows.  Darien took a step and let the Quicksilver flake from his body with a familiar tinkle of glass shards.  The doctor turned her head slightly at the noise but apparently chose to ignore it as she returned to her notebook.

            Softly as he could Darien cleared his throat.  This time Arwyn turned, fear on her features.  "My name is Darien Fawkes.  Harper sent me," said Darien, trying to appease her.

            "How…how did you get in here?"

            "Long story.  However, now we have to get out of here.  Grab the data you have on your nanobots."

            "_Who are you?"_

            "Darien Fawkes.  Believe me, I'm with the good guys, The Agency.  Agent Harper contacted you four weeks ago and gave you a contact number inside The Agency.  Now I'm here to extract you."

            Arwyn found herself nodding, remembering the events.  She gathered up the notebook she had been writing in, a couple others like it and a case of CDs.  She looked around her spartan lab and with a nod to Darien, signaled she had what she needed.

            Darien nodded in return and checked his wrist.  "Something else," he said as he removed the syringe from its case, pausing when he saw the horror on the doctor's face.  "No, no, you're safe, I promise you.  This is for me, I might need it before we get out of here.  If I tell you to inject it, do it immediately," said Darien, taking a leap of faith that the engineer would be able to act in case he neared Quicksilver Madness.

            Watching Arwyn tuck the syringe away with her notes, Darien took her hand a led her to the door.  "I'm not going to be able to explain it now.  They can't see us, but they can still hear us.  Be as quiet as you can," said Darien and he let the Quicksilver flow over his body and onto Arwyn's.  A small gasp was the only reaction from the doctor.

            Leading Arwyn from the lab, Darien directed her through the halls, back to the stairwell where he had entered this wing of the building.  A small pinging sensation began to intrude on Darien's consciousness.  He knew the last 10 minutes of his Quicksilver ability was approaching.  

            He quickened their pace as the pinging became pain pressing at his skull, trying to force its way out through bone and tissue.  He saw the sign directing him into the stairwell and he pushed Arwyn through the door ahead of him.  Glancing around, he noted the cameras and tucked himself and Arwyn into a corner out of the scanners' paths.  

            Darien cut the Quicksilver flow with a small tinkle and saw the shocked look on the doctor's face.  With a grim smile he turned his wrist up and saw the last two green segments.  "The syringe," he managed as a spike of pain shot through his consciousness.              

            Arwyn paled and fumbled for the hypodermic.  Darien concentrated on her actions, knowing the Madness could be halted.  Arwyn pulled the cap off the needle and with a shaking hand reached for Darien's arm.  

            "Where?" she whispered.

            Darien turned the inside of his elbow up and indicated the bulging vein beneath the skin.  Arwyn nodded and carefully slid the needle in with untrained hands.  Darien hissed at the pain and Arwyn startled.  

            "Inject it," said Darien through gritted teeth with a nod of his head.  

            Arwyn began depressing the plunger and Darien slumped against the wall as the Counteragent hit his system.  He felt hands on his shoulders trying to keep him upright and watched as the world around him swam as the Counteragent worked its magic through his vessels.  

            "Agent Fawkes?  Darien?  Wake up," a voice implored him through the fog in his brain.  Darien's eyes snapped open and he saw the worried face of the doctor before him.  

            "Are you alright?  What was that stuff?"

            "Counteragent."

            "Counteragent.  Something to do with the Quicksilver?"

            "You know?"

            "I have no idea.  I only assumed that what you used to get us out of there.  I've only seen the old reports and heard the "myths" in various tech circles," explained Arwyn.

            Darien nodded and pushed himself away from the wall.  He looked around and listened carefully.  So far it seemed they hadn't been discovered.  Rolling his neck, Darien shook out his arms.  "Ready to get out of here?" he asked with a smile.

            "Yes.  You're ok?"

            Darien looked at his wrist and was greeted by ten green segments.  "I'm fine.  Let's go."

            Once again Darien let the Quicksilver flow and covered both himself and the doctor.  They slipped out of their sheltered corner and padded down the stairs into the S1N0 junction.  He placed the ear piece back into his ear to hear his aggravated partner. 

            "Fawkes!  Fawkes, can you hear me!  Damn it, Fawkes, answer me!"  

            "Something you needed, Hobbes?" he asked innocently.

            "Damn it, Fawkes, where were you?"  

            "Retrieving the doctor.  We just past the S1N0 junction.  We're on our way out."

            "That explains the guards going ape shit down here.  They know she's gone, Fawkes.  Get your butt out here pronto."

            Darien ignored Bobby's continuing diatribe and turned to the doctor.  "They know you're gone.  Things could get nasty.  Do what I tell you, ok?"

            Arwyn nodded and allowed herself to be lead further into the bowels of the Stratagen building.  They arrived at a door which opened to a tunnel.  The breath of fresh air startled Arwyn.  They were outdoors, or close to it.

            "Hobbes?  What's our situation?" ask Darien, noting the other agents were no longer in the tunnel.

            "Your exit is still clear.  We'll lay down cover fire if need be.  Be careful, Fawkes."

            "Always."

            Darien shed the Quicksilver now that they were in the tunnel and blinked to adjust his vision to the darker interior.  He felt Arwyn stumble and looked over his shoulder to see her trying to do the same thing.  

            "Almost there."  The square of light that announced the end of the tunnel approached and Darien hurried towards it.  Stopping near the mouth, Darien gestured for Arwyn to stay hidden and he let the Quicksilver flow over his body.  He reconnoitered the immediate area and called softly to Arwyn.  He sent a tendril of Quicksilver on to the doctor and watched it swiftly cover her.

            "It's a bit of a walk, but it looks clear."

            Quietly they made their way across the sand, their footprints the only clue to their presence.  In the murky distance Darien could see the speck that was the Agency vehicle.  He quickened their pace slightly, 20 yards.  

            "We're incoming, Hobbes, heads up," said Darien.  

            "Hit the deck, Fawkes!" was the only warning Darien received before the first shots rang out across the otherwise silent landscape.  

            Pulling Arwyn to the ground the Quicksilver flaked off of them and Darien saw Bobby running towards them.  "Get her to the truck!  Go!  Go!  Go!" commanded Hobbes as he returned fire.

            Darien pulled Arwyn to her feet and half dragged her along with his longer strides.  The door of the SUV was thrown open as they neared and Arwyn scrambled into the back seat, Darien following.  She found herself sitting facing another bench seat, Darien next to her and Adrian Harper across from her.

"Doctor," said Harper as the engine roared to life and the SUV lurched into motion.  The opposite door was thrown open and Hobbes came tumbling in, landing next to Agent Harper.

            "Welcome to The Agency, ma'am," said Hobbes with a smile for Arwyn as he then returned fire from the open window.  The gun spent its last round and Hobbes dropped the clip, slamming a new one home as they sped away.

            "We'll be in Odessa in about 30 minutes.  Is there anything you need?" asked Hobbes.  Arwyn looked at him with disbelief and shook her head.  "Your expertise is needed for Doctors Keeply and Ashbury's daughter.  She was, as you know, infected with your new nanobots.  Unfortunately, before we realized this, sensitive information was transmitted back to Jason Redlin.  Dana Ashbury has been removed and sequestered.  Her father is with her.  You will be transferred to them," reported Bobby in his briefing.

            "What about my sons?  What about Ryan?" asked Arwyn as Darien listened as well.  That must have been the assignment Bobby wouldn't tell him about.  

            "That information has not been released to me, ma'am."

            Arwyn took a deep breath and nodded.  At least she was away from that monster Redlin.

***

"Doctor Noël's extraction was successful.  She's currently on her way to the holding facility where Dana is being kept.  Doctor Noël reassured us she has a fully functional reversal protocol for her nanobots.  Dana will be treated and released to her father within 48 hours."

            Claire stood unmoving, listening to The Official's report.  "I would like to thank Doctor Noël," replied Claire softly. 

            "I'm sure your thanks can be passed on, Doctor," said The Official, nodding to Eberts to make a note of it.  "That's all, Doctor," continued The Official in dismissal.  

            Claire turned and left the office.  

            "Eberts."

            "Yes, sir?"

            "Please call in Agent Larke."

            "Yes, sir," replied Eberts picking up the phone.  A few moments later there was a knock at the door.

            "Enter!"

            Agent Larke opened the door and slipped inside.  "Sir?"

            "Agent Larke.  As of last evening your wife has been successfully removed from the Stratagen compound.  She is now at a secure location," said The Official, trying to keep the warmth from his voice as he saw the relief on his Agent's face.

            "She's ok?"

            "She was reported to be in good condition.  A little shaken perhaps, but physically uninjured."

            "Thank god."

            "Now, you are being transferred to Denver.  You're expected at our offices there in 36 hours.  You will be detoured to San Luis Obispo first to collect your sons," said The Official, pausing as Agent Larke nearly collapsed into the chair behind him.  Sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees and head in his hands, Agent Larke shook with a mixture of laugher and tears.

            "Thank you, sir, thank you.  You have no idea what it means to me to get my family back.  Ever since Arwyn was kidnapped I've been dreaming of this," replied Ryan through his emotions.

            "My pleasure, Agent.  You have five hours until your plane leaves.  I suggest you pack."

            "Here are your copies of the release papers and transfer documents, Agent Larke," said Eberts, handing the agent a file folder.  

            "Thank you, sir," repeated Ryan as he stood and shook The Official's hand.

            The Official nodded and dismissed the agent.  Watching him leave, The Official realized it had been seven years since he had reunited a family.  He had spent most of his time constantly breaking them up for safety.

            Jason Redlin paced in his office.  Pausing near his desk he picked up the tumbler with its two fingers of scotch and he hurled it at the wall, glaring with satisfaction as the glass shattered and the amber liquid slid down the wall and into the carpet.  

            He was going to kill the next person who mentioned The Agency.  Not only had they managed to steal another of his doctors, they had successfully perpetuated the Quicksilver Project.  All the things he wanted, all the things Ann Rolbin had left him were disintegrating.  

            A timid knock at his door caught his attention.  "What?" he roared.

            "Sir?  The new Chrysalis reports, sir.  Jared Stark has some new information from his embedded people, sir," spoke the aid hesitantly.

            Redlin took the files and slapped them onto his desk as the aid slipped back into the hall.  He paced the length of his office twice more before throwing himself into this high backed leather desk chair and opening the first file.  Progress report on the genetic tinkering Jared's people were experimenting with.  The second file was the more interesting of the two.  A new list of the children inside The Agency's Chrysalis Program.  Locations of the sequestered children and where their parents worked.

            After having discovered Ellen Parker's daughter in the Chrysalis Program Redlin had requested Stark infiltrate the Program and return to him information on other Agency employee's children.  Using this information he was able to convince necessary people to stay at his research facility.  It was how he had acquired Doctor Noël.  Two of Stark's people had been discovered but others still remained.

            Looking over the rows of child-sized desks she carefully threaded her way through the room, placing a handout on every desk.  Glancing at the wall clock she noted that she had three hours until she was off duty.  She had never thought of herself as a teacher, but found herself fitting into the position rather naturally.  She didn't agree with Stark's program, but it accomplished his goal.  

Hearing shouts and running footsteps in the hall she returned to the front of the room and wrote an assignment on the whiteboard with bright blue marker.  She turned and watched 15 second graders filter into her room from recess, cheeks flushed and adrenaline levels still high.  

A little girl's voice broke her thoughts, "What are we reading today, Miss Monroe?"


End file.
